The Ditch
by RyokoMist
Summary: On a cold winter's day while walking home after a fight with her mom, Max is attacked by road crazy Jokerz and falls in a ditch to escape them. Injured, frightened and trapped, Max struggles for life and against the blistering cold as Batman frantically tries to find her while Terry's feelings grow ever more prominent. Terry/Max. Based on RyokoMist's own life changing accident.
1. Chapter 1

_Based on a true story_

 _As many of you readers of mine might remember, back in 2013 i was in an accident. I fell in a ditch in the winter, broke my left leg (the bone snapped clearly through and was nearly protruding from the flesh), fractured my left ankle, and severely dislocated it. I had to have 2 surgeries to repair the damage and months of physical therapy to learn how to walk again. The result is forever metal in my leg and a mild limp. One of my readers had recommended a while ago that i turn the ordeal into a story - well nearly two and a half years later i've done just that. Of course for the sake of the story some things have to be dramatically elongated and changed to kinda coincide with Batman Beyond so you guys don't get bored *cough cough*. i was surprised by how hard it actually was for me to write this chapter, struggling with the memory of the fear i felt that day. So please bear with me! **Anyways, to everyone out there who wished me well in my recovery back then, thank you. And to the man who found me - wherever you are - thank you. You literally saved my life. :')**_

 _Hope you all enjoy. Look out for the future chapters to this - also be expecting next week a new one shot._

 _ **HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY AMERICA!**_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter One**

 _Disbelief_

"I'm serious Max! I refuse to enable you – you've got to take responsibility and get your shit together!" Max winced angrily in remembrance of her mother's cold words as the girl pounded her feet against the snow covered pavement in heavy frustration. Enabled? Enabled?! Last Max checked neither parents nor sibling _enabled_ the youngest Gibson since that messy ass divorce when she was a kid. Max was seventeen now, and with her sister off traveling for work constantly Gibson had learned exceptionally well how to put the ducks in a row. Between her textbook brilliance, street genius, and "experience" with being alone the majority of the time Max was beyond capable in getting her "shit together" – in fact, the teen brain was rather convinced that she was smarter than her family put together! Annoyed with her mother's blind arrogance, Max had stormed out of the apartment and decided to take a calming walk – although the more she walked the more pissed she wound up becoming in the solo quiet that steadily repeated the argument they'd just had back perfectly – along with all the things she _could_ have said in rebuke. But she supposed it was a good thing she hadn't said 20% of the thoughts that went racing through the girl's mind. No matter how strained things were between them, Max steadily exercised caution when disagreeing with her parents – as wise cracking as she was, the girl did not find the back of a hand upside the head a favorable sacrifice for sharing her opinion. Max narrowed her brows: then again, giving the off parameters of where her family was since the divorce, who's to say Max wouldn't swing a hand back? See? Avoiding those risks was the better choice to make. Max could feel the frustration between the both of them growing too near to a physical explosion and took off.

But what had started the shouting match between the Gibson women? All the girl did was ask her mother for a hundred credits so she could attend a science convention in Metropolis next month! It's not like her father was without money – and like the mother hadn't milked him for it in the divorce. Max's cell buzzed and the girl reached into her pocket and placed it to an ear and answered without even bothering to look at the caller ID. "Yeah."

"Grumpy much?" responded Terry McGinnis. She could almost hear his playful smile. "Things not work out with your mom?" A faint echo of his voice resonated through the phone – along with whispery inhuman screeches. She knew automatically where he was calling from: the cave.

Max huffed, raising her shoulders against an immediate icy blast. So wrapped up in her burning rage the girl had forgotten about the bitter winter that had engulfed Gotham in shades of whites and greys and muddy browns. The only time Max enjoyed winter in Gotham was when the snow was fresh and new, pure and untainted by the bustle and filth the city devoured it with within 24 hours of arriving. By then, winter was just like every other Gotham day: ass. "She _refuses_ to be a mother for once," growled Max as her feet slid a little on black ice upon the pavement, earning a bountiful curse from her and snicker from McGinnis. "HAS THIS PLACE EVER HEARD OF SALT?!" Terry's snicker turned into a guffaw and Max's irritation was fed. "Fuck you, Ter. Some job you're doing in this city!"

"Heeey!" Terry whined, sounding almost hurt by her declaration. "I stop criminals. Salt enforcement is NOT in my job description. Don't take your attitude out on me." McGinnis zipped up his backpack and prepared to sling it over his shoulder after giving the old man a departing wave. "Where are you anyway?" he asks, picking up what sounded like passing by cars. But that couldn't be right; it had to be the television or something because there was no way that Maxine Gibson was out in this-.

"Walking."

The blue eyed bad boy paused and narrowed his brows. "Pause. Max, this weather is absolute shit. Why are you walking? It's like…I don't know, ten degrees or some shiz! I've got a heated suit and I STILL don't wanna be out in this crap saving the day." He ignored the disapproving cough from Bruce in the background.

Max grit her teeth, jumping back a little as a speeding car whizzes by and sprays the air with brown melted snow – barely missing her. Her blue jacket seemed to constrict tight around her body as she was grateful that she ran off in her grey sweat suit rather than something less…comforting. She looked down at her new black army boots and groaned. Well these would definitely be destroyed by the time she got back. "I needed to clear my head. There was no way that I'd just sit there and let her talk down on me like that." Max inhaled sharply as heat seared through her abundant chest. "You should have heard the shit she was spewing Ter! She totally passed me off as some kind of lazy child solely reliant on her existence for _everything_. I could never rely on her before – what makes her even fathom that I ever would is just – UGH!" Terry grunted his agreement and Max shook her head in disbelief before continuing, "I've been an excellent daughter given the _circumstances_ – and she flips out over a hundred creds to pay for my stay at a hotel. _I_ bought my flight, _I_ paid for admission to the convention – and those tickets aren't cheap! I've been saving up for this convention for two damn years, Terry! – _I'm_ covering all the extra costs like food and cab fare or souvenirs and crap – why does she have to be so, so… _her_?! ALL OF THEM! Responsibility? HA! My family doesn't even know the meaning of the word. I hate how they can come off so high and mighty and just put everyone else down. I'm nothing like them in that way. I don't ever want to be like that! I try to take advantage of so many opportunities all on my own without their support but still I'm _condemned_ -!"

"Max." Terry had stood there at the bottom of the steps leading back up to the mansion, listening to her rant, hearing the pissed tone shift to rage and confusion; but it was when her voice cracked on that last word that the Batman of the future could hear the misunderstanding, loneliness, and pain take over. He knew everything she was trying to do – and applauded the girl greatly for it in secret. But it was times like this when Terry really felt like a sham and not a best friend. She hardly every expressed emotions like this – for the longest time he'd simply thought the girl had a perfect life…until he witnessed her desperation while under Spellbinder's influence. That was when McGinnis got a true glimpse into the silent turmoil Max faced, and realized just how shallow he was and how the boy never seemed to be there to help her through it. Every time she allowed him to see this side of her it broke the teen to his core. Terry was done never being at the right place at the right moment for her. He'd sworn that he would always find a way. "Head inside somewhere, I'll come pick you up."

Max felt her stomach ripple in anticipation. Terrence always made things better, simpler. It had gotten to the point that the two were so attuned to one another that only each other's company could calm them in the midst of distress. Of course such unity did bring about its problems: the romantic feelings as a primary example. Having his shoulders to lean on more and more now was making it harder for Max to push back the interest – their friendship was literally the most important thing to her and she didn't want to jeopardize that. As badly as Gibson wanted him to come and sweep her off her feet like her Dark Knight in a technologically advanced batsuit, she figured it best not to do that. "It's alright Ter. I'm practically home now."

She wanted distance. McGinnis surely didn't want to give it to her but would oblige (against his better judgment). "Well you want me to pick you up to go to Chelsea's?" Nash, Chelsea, Max, Terry and Dana were supposed to meet up at Cunningham's for a study session in an hour or two.

Gibson looked down an alley between two nearby buildings and thought briefly. If she kept heading to the main bus top it might take her about 45 minutes to get home with the wait and constant stops (she had no idea that in her anger she'd walked so far). But if she took the back way – this way – that led to the rear of her apartment building she'd be on the elevator in half that time. Plus the sooner she got home the greater the chance of getting in and out before her mother and sister returned from their planned spa day. The genius didn't want to see either of them right now: they had _way_ more in common than Max could handle. "Nah. I'll call a cab."

The vigilante obviously wasn't pleased with his best friend's answer, but knew arguing with Max was out of the question. One did not simply hope to debate against Maxine Gibson. "Fine. I'll see you soon." Terry paused, pressing the phone tight against his face before adding casually yet with a hint of something much more meaningful, "Love ya." Saying those words had become far more natural to him – and over the course of time began to inquire a greater definition to the usual way he spoke them concerning her. There was something about his Max-.

The smile couldn't be faltered at the soft spoken hum of his voice and words melting into her ear – her heart galloped in what it hoped to have picked up in his tone. "Love you too…dreg." Terry's hushed chuckle turned her knees to butter and Max hung up before turning and heading down the alley. As lovely as the memory of his declaration was, Max slapped herself back to reality. The alley was large and darkened, almost ominous even though it bordered a rather busy block. She supposed darkness had to reside everywhere. It was lined with litter and trash and flooded potholes. Passing a couple of homeless bodies seeking shelter near blazing dumpsters and trash bins, Max jammed her fists inside her jacket pocket avoiding eye contact. The genius teen wasn't worried per say completely for her safety, but was knowledgeable of the Jokerz who sometimes met in places like this, or congregated to take advantage of the ever abundant homeless residents – sometimes to steal the little they had, to harass them, rape them…or worse… _for kicks_. Her mother had warned her many times not to take this path – but Max for years never listened. Though she was sure if Terry knew where she was heading that he'd shit bataraangs.

Finally having reached the end of the alley she stepped into an opening, a road. Across from it were metal structures and beams spread about an enormous land plot. Some high end corporation was building a couple strip malls and townhouses here (so Max had heard); but started construction a tad late and had to halt production once winter hit. The empty buildings Max had passed between were to be demolished in the spring to create easier access for residents and shoppers – it would also push out the local Jokerz gang, which everyone in the area approved. Max walked along the edge of the road cautiously. There was no sidewalk along this road, and the grass was at least calve deep with snow – there was also the deep channels that were spread out every other block or so – water runoffs.

An explosion of icy air whipped through her and Max shivered as a sudden honking sound crashed aloud from behind as a truck, filled to the brim with painted face youths, came flying down the road – almost urging the girl further along the edge as she looked over her shoulder with aroused fear. In just a matter of seconds what had started out as a good idea, a shortcut, had transformed into a moment of sheer terror. Jokerz! And they had her in their sights. The truck swerved on the edge for her, the sound of the engine accelerating making her skin grow pale before she bolted – the running only fueling the maddened teens' games. It was swiftly approaching, and there was nowhere for Max for go. She stepped on a warning curb and dropped out of nowhere as the horrendous laughter and strong fumes from the bad conditioned vehicle raced by…but Max…

Her left heel slipped on the ice covered curb and buckled beneath her as girl's footing was thrown and her right leg extended forward. "Ah!" she cried out as her heart raced and felt her left heel touch her buttocks. There was a sharp snap, a pop, an unusual pulling. Max plummeted down into the ground and rolled, hitting her head against something while the world spun uncontrollably around her and grew, for just a brief moment, darkened.

And then? Silence.

Silence enveloped for mere seconds but seemed like hours before her dark eyes opened; nothing initially seemed to register with the girl's brain until reality slowly made its way back to her. She was on her back – she was coherent to that at least. She was conscious – that had to be good, right? The top floors of the building in front of her were visible, so that meant she wasn't dead – definitely good. But everything else was blocked out by hills of surrounding white. Why couldn't she see the ground? Or the street anymore? Max blinked and looked over to find a metal tunnel protruding from the ground and it became clear: she was in a runoff – a ditch. The Jokerz had drove her into it. She'd stepped on something before her leg had gave way-. Her leg! The pop sensation she had felt during the fall jolted her remembrance and warily Max looked down to her extended left leg surrounded by snow before inhaling sharply – in absolute terror. "AIIIIEEEEEEEEE!"

Through her sweatpants she could see it – an entity out of alignment with the rest of the leg, pushing up against the fabric as her foot dangled completely, unnaturally, on its side. Immediately it was apparent: her leg was broken. Oh God. Her LEG (and possibly ankle too) was BROKEN! "HELP!" Max screamed out feverishly into the white and dull sky, for it was all she could see, and the only thing watching back. "SOMEONE!"

There was no answer, of course – only the sound of traffic on the busy main road that she'd foolishly abandoned. Max Gibson felt overwhelming panic consume her being with the knowledge that she was alone in the snow with night not far off, trapped in a ditch on a back road that no one knew about! No one knew where she was! There was a faint vibrating sound coming from somewhere above and Max frantically slapped at the jacket pockets only for her eyes to burn and wails to grow more maddened as the air in her chest seemed to diminish. Her phone…it had fallen out! Up THERE! How would anyone know what happened? Or where to find her? Max threw a hand up, trying to feel around but her stinging bare fingers couldn't even reach the top of the ditch. She wasn't even visible from the road! N…No – NO! A guttural scream flew forth from the girl's full lips as the severity of her situation began to press on her fully now that general options for rescue were pretty much void under these bizarre results. There was no way out. "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEEEEEEASE!"

The phone, partially buried beneath the disturbed frost, lit up with an incoming call. The screen read: _Terry_.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

_Alright here is chapter 2. Now this chapter has some added drama for the sake of the story. The Jokerz part did NOT happen to me XD Anyways, this is something i kinda threw together today so i hope you guys enjoy it. Please forgive any grammatical, spelling, etc. errors. I really didnt do a good job editing this. __

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Two**

 _Terror & Realizations_

Terry shifted his blue eyes slightly with confusion as the phone pressed against his ear continued to ring before Max's sensual voice stated, " _Hey, you've reached the shwayest dame in town. Peg a mess and I'll dial ya back._ " McGinnis snorted in brief amusement, and then told the answering service: "Max. You sure you don't need a ride? Look, call me back. I'm almost at Chels's."

Placing the phone in the cup holder of one of Bruce's cars that Terry was "borrowing" for the winter, the hero protégé hummed disapprovingly; that was the third time within the hour he'd tried calling Max but got no answer. Sure she needed space so she could vent a little while longer privately but this was ridiculous! Gibson always took his calls. God, he hoped she and her mom hadn't got into another verbal spat…or that Gibson wasn't on some kind of ultra-nuclear punishment or something – one, because that would be so unfair to Max; two, because the group wouldn't be able to accomplish a solid breakdown study on physics without her! The teens could probably manage – sure – but a study group just wasn't as much fun without Max there to liven it up!

McGinnis turned onto Cunningham's block and came to a stop in front of a simple yet elegant two-story home. Noting the red sports car already in the drive he rolled his eyes and put the vehicle into park. Terry reached back into the rear seats and grabbed his backpack with a wearied sigh, then finally got out and headed up the walkway to the front porch. The Cunningham's had a nice home, but it always felt so odd coming here…so…empty. Ringing the doorbell Terry fiddled his fingers against the icy blast of wind while waiting almost impatiently until the door opened to a middle aged man whose handsome features were worn with reluctance, exhaustion and grief. The eyes of the man appeared glazed and cold and the secret vigilante faltered. Chelsea hadn't mentioned her father would be home. "Hi, Mr. Cunningham," Terry greeted awkwardly.

"You here to study?" Mr. Cunningham droned, overlooking the young man with a hint of suspicion yet absent concern.

"For the study group, yes," McGinnis answered.

Mr. Cunningham gestured his head as an invitation to come inside; McGinnis obliged the offer after an adjustment of the backpack on his shoulders. The out-of-it father tossed a hand for the back of the house where lights and sounds of faint laughter floated towards them. "In the back. Try not to make too much of a ruckus." Without another word the Cunningham sire turned and headed up the steps, Terry watching him until the grown man finally disappeared, and then going himself down the foyer beyond the extravagantly large marble covered kitchen into a comfortable family room: it housed a glass desk and desktop computer, a sofa, loveseat, two arm chairs, wooden cabinets and counter that practically ran along the wall length of the room, a four purpose state of the art printer, and a cobblestone fireplace.

Sitting at the desk was Howie, Nelson Nash hovered behind him; their faces were illuminated from the light of the computer screen and attention diverted on it rather than the purpose of the gathering. Chelsea was sprawled on her back on the sofa with crossed legs and a magazine in hand while Dana lingered on knees before the warmth of the flames coming out the fireplace. Real fire as opposed to the electric imagery ones. Shway. Music resounded quietly and loose creds were tossed on a long glass table in front of the sofa – probably for the purpose of ordering food once the group entirety arrived. Yet there was no sign of Max in this warm and welcoming room. Terry was obviously late – what unnerved him was the fact that Gibson typically _wasn't_.

Cunningham peered around the magazine's pages as a grin slipped easily across her mouth. Sure Chelsea was a rebellious problem child (what teen in Gotham wasn't?) with a slight attention complex derived from a screwed up relationship with her father – but the girl could be a real doll when she wanted to be. It's why the gang adored her so much. Chelsea swung her legs over the sofa side and practically twirled over to Terry; giving him a friendly hug. Ever since he'd come to see her when she was locked up in that crazy correctional facility for teens and promised to get her out, the two had become fairly close. They weren't associates through mutual friends anymore: they _were_ friends.

"Ter!" Chelsea exclaimed in her perfect cheer. "You're lake like my old man trying to actually be a father." Nelson made a crude remark from the other side of the room and she flipped him off before returning to the conversation with McGinnis. The blonde future model looked over his shoulder expecting to see their mutual best friend but blinked instead. "Where's my baby?" Last Chelsea checked, Max was supposed to be catching a ride with McGinnis – so where was she?

Terry had been glad to see Chelsea as he engaged in the hug. But at the mention of Max all concerns flooded over him once more and the hero held her at arm's length with narrowed brows. "You haven't heard from Max?"

Chelsea shook her head as the remaining teens grew immediately distant from their original distractions and became attentive at the level of worry in the once delinquent's voice. "A couple hours ago, maybe? She was going to call me after talking to her about Metropolis."

McGinnis huffed. That was long prior to when he'd talked to her last. "They got into a fight about it," he informed the girl who frowned deeply in disappointment.

"Is she okay?" Dana asked, moving away from the fireplace. Tan, like the rest of them (aside McGinnis, they figured), had heard very little about Max's home life – but they knew enough of the back and forth the Gibson women seemed to have with one another. Bickering that usually had some kind of negative aftereffect on Max.

"I told my future wife," Nelson added after rounding from the desk and folding his arms authoritatively – Terry groaned –, "to just lemme drive her to Metropolis. It'd be much cheaper."

"Suuuure," Chelsea chimed through rolled eyes. "A pack of condoms is _definitely_ cheaper than airfare."

"Exactly!" the ginger sports junkie exclaimed with a mischievous grin. Everyone knew Nelson Nash respected Max as a person, adored her as a friend…and lusted after the plumpest ass and breasts at Hill High. Max had an insane body and being the perv that he was, it would be a sin not to admire what she had been so dutifully blessed with. He'd never force her if it meant destroying their friendship – but heaven knew he would _try_ to push the limits as far as they could stretch.

"God, Nelson!" Chelsea retorted in disgust. "Please don't _ever_ reproduce."

"That's what the condoms are for, duh."

If there were ever a moment that Terry wanted to throw away Batman's "No Kill" motto, it was without a doubt every single time Nelson Nash opened his mouth to speak. Hearing the sports head talk about sex was bad enough, but to hear him speak about Max in that light just pissed McGinnis off to the core of his very existence. Terry would wring Nash's neck…But right now there were other things on Terry's mind besides sticking the jock's head into the fireplace. "I tried calling her," the teen interjects the twos juvenile banter, "but can't get an answer."

Dana strides across the room and gives her current ex-boyfriend a stare. "Max may be a tech wiz, but even she doesn't keep her cell attached to her hip 24/7. Maybe she's working things out with Mrs. Gibson." In truth, Tan had come for a specific reason tonight. Unlike the others she wasn't struggling in physics. In fact, she was second behind Max for the highest grade in the class. The real reason the Asian beauty was here was to secure Terry. She wanted him back again and hoped during this time together the two of them would kiss and make-up as per their usual ritual. Right now, however, she didn't feel quite as confident. Why? Because of the way Terry looked right now while talking about Max. That worry on his countenance gave her the impression of something far more than mere friendship…and the idea of that not only shocked, but confused her.

Terry glowered at the thought of such a thing, however. "No one can work _anything_ out with Mrs. Gibson," the boy snarled. McGinnis's feeling for Max's mother was of pure disdain – not solely from Max's words and point of view, but out of personal experience. Mrs. Gibson, from the very first moment she'd met him, was not Terry's biggest fan. To say she hated him would be too gentle of an understatement. After somehow finding out about the boy's previous troubles with Gotham law she'd told him straight up how she felt. He had dropped by one evening a while back to hang out with Maxine at the apartment, but judging from the expression on Max's face as her mother came through the front door, he knew this wasn't a planned visit. Max made the introductions and her mother's face hardened in significance. Basically the woman said Terry was a no good, troublemaking, horrid influence of an insect that she would not let plant his disgusting seed of inferiority anywhere near her daughter. Mrs. Gibson wouldn't acknowledge much less hear how her daughter's best friend had changed his life around. What she felt would not be swayed, and Terry got real tired real _fast_ over the years of trying to shift the hag's perspective. There was a better chance of hell freezing over before Mrs. Gibson would see that she could be wrong.

Dana rolled her eyes but caressed his shoulder blade in that way she knew he liked, earning her a surprised raise of the brow from McGinnis. "Anything's possible, Ter," she explained sexily, an underlining message in those words. Chelsea scowled a little and turned away from Tan with a quiet huff. Chelsea loved Dana to pieces but honestly thought it was time for her relationship with Terry stay strictly friends. They weren't as compatible now as they had been. Sure they tried hard to keep their relationship flourishing – and Chelsea had to offer some big ass kudos for that because the young teen knew herself that _she_ could never have that much patience – but it seemed like this was, or perhaps should have been, drawing to a close. She knew of another young woman who deserved a chance…another young woman who cared for him, just as he cared for her even if he was unaware of it. "TAX", "MERRY" – whatever cute little abbreviation they could have for it – in secret and with all hope, Chelsea shipped Terry and Max…she shipped them like first class FedEx.

Dana continued, unknowing about her girlfriend's quiet thoughts, "Just give it a little while longer. Max's a big girl who isn't too afraid to ask for help. If she needs us," Chelsea internally groaned at the "us", "she'll call us."

"Yeah…I guess you're right." Terry reluctantly agreed as he pulled a hand out of his pocket and relaxed: shaking, for a moment, the feeling that Max couldn't call… and that she needed him badly.

* * *

After about the fifth time and Max's failed attempts to reach it, the cell phone finally stopped buzzing from atop the channel and grew eerily silent, leaving Max to give a defeated whine of despair. The girl slammed her hand to her side and murmured, "Teerrry…", through closed eyelids. But he couldn't hear her. For all Max knew he wasn't even at the study session; he was probably off fighting crime somewhere far from her…and that's when she felt it:

Terror.

What if no one ever noticed she was missing? What if she could never get out of this hole? Max's throat constricts as her breaths grow short and shallow with panic, fingers gripping into the icy snow. Her mind raced: no one knew where she was, she couldn't get out on her own, her cell was stuck up _there_ …No. NO! This honestly couldn't be happening to her right now. Yet it was, and it was apparent just how powerless she actually was. There was no line of code to hack, no textbooks to study, no Batman to save her. She was by herself. Max began screaming again, begging for someone to hear her – but in truth she could hardly hear herself.

She screamed for what felt like hours until her throat hurt and body caved into exhaustion. The snow began to melt into the girl's pants, soaking her skin as her body was racked with chills. She couldn't feel her legs or fingers anymore, which given the leg break was _good_ …but she also couldn't feel anything other than cold that ripped through her limbs like a flame as the shivers spread. Her teeth chattered.

With her gaze fixated on the dull and gray Gotham winter sky, Max assessed her terms. So this was it, huh? Max knew everyone at some point or another had to die, but this _wasn't_ how Gibson envisioned how she would go. The genius always thought she'd die at ninety-nine in her small, quaint mattress in her small, quaint home in a cul-de-sac off the beach; not as a teenager in the ground frozen solid like Jack from the _Titanic_. Max scoffed at the mental comparison. At least Jack was with the person he loved before dying…at least he wasn't all alone! But Max didn't have anyone with her – she wouldn't get to say goodbye before sinking to a dark chilling death. Jack had lived his short life to its fullest: he'd traveled, gambled, ran from authority, lived according to his own standards and not the ones society thought he should have…Jack fell madly in love – pursued it, cultivated it, received and _enjoyed_ it to the bitter, freezing end.

And what had Max done with her life? Sure she was brilliant and therefore had constant opportunities at her feet but what had she _done_? Nothing. Despite her tough girl exterior Max allowed herself to stay trapped under someone else's beliefs: her mother's – which in turn really kept her stuck beneath the ever shifting standards of society: a society who loved you one minute and would hang you the next and disown all you've ever done as if you never even existed – and then _forget_ about your existence. Maxine gasped at this newfound realization. For so hard she'd fought not to become a paper cut out of society yet all along she _was_. Maybe not as openly as others, but the fact that she'd successfully been deceived into subtle control and obedience by her mother only proved she was (in a small way that might've been insignificant to most) living a lie.

Gibson couldn't even tell her best friend how she really felt about him: not because she thought they weren't compatible, but out of fear of rejection… fear he would inadvertently break her heart down the road. When Max thought about it: she was pathetic. And now the girl would die down here without ever taking advantage of each new day as an opportunity to pursue greater things, self-happiness – to make something out of her life. She was a senior in high school and had not the slightest clue about who _she_ was and what _she_ wanted.

All along her greatest fear had not solely been death, and now she was paralyzed with the obvious knowledge of what else it was…Inadequacy. She was inadequate: to her sister, father, mother, school, friends…Terry…but even more frightening – to herself. Maxine Gibson didn't _matter_. And no matter how hard she struggled to please her family or how many computer systems she hacked for her Batman bestie, she never would matter. This ditch was the only thing her short life would ever amount to; and after about a week she'd be forgotten. Surely everyone would simply carry on with their lives and Max's memory would be nothing more than a sad "tragedy" – a shadowed figment of the past. Someone had said once: "We do not die when we've passed from one world to the next; we die when we are forgotten." Right now, that's how she felt. In this moment Gibson had wished for a swift death rather than this torturous suffering she must endure. Tears, the only heat she could feel, flowed down her cheeks.

Time passed, and the cold in her bones seemed to subside as the female exhaled white vapor from her drying lips. Already the sun was low in the sky and Max knew hours must have fled from her. The siren of an ambulance rang in the distance but she knew it wasn't coming for her. With eyes growing heavy Max prepared to drift into a world of slumber when there was the echo of squeaking brakes and car doors slamming. Max lifted her brown irises at the crunch of footsteps…and her remaining color melted from her body.

Five faces looked down at her…five grinning faces…five painted faces. Jokerz. "Heeeey," chimed a scrawny one with abnormally large buck teeth. "Aint this the juicy ass from earlier?" Max inhaled. They were the idiots who ran her off the road?!

"Looks like it," replies a larger built clown with an arm wrapped around a barely dressed girl's hip. How was she not freezing in that get up? Max noted the hazed look in the girl's eyes and came to the conclusion all knowingly: it's hard to feel anything when you're pumped full of narcotics.

There was a gagging sound. "Oh! UGH! Her _leg_!" groaned an obese gang member as he turned and keeled over his knees and heaved. Max rolled her eyes internally. Pussy.

But the leader wasn't disturbed in the least bit as he grinned some more. "Whew!" he whistled. "She's got it bad." His eyes catch the black phone resting in the snow. "Maybe you should call someone." He kicks it down playfully in hopes of watching her squirm and writhe in pain of trying to get it as it landed a good arm stretch from her. But Max did nothing. She just looked up at him with silent eyes until his grin gradually descended into an annoyed frown. "Well, being the good Samaritans we are, how about we check for damaged personal belongings?" The gang whooped and slid down into the ditch, rummaging through Max's pockets and jacket. The leader climbed on top of her, pressing his full seated weight onto her stomach. Max grimaced a little. "Hey…you're kinda cute," he adds, pulling out a switchblade and pressing it against her jaw. "Name's Teaser, baby? What's yours?"

Max said nothing. She knew that the more she "gave" clowns like these then the more trouble they gave back in return. If she didn't respond to them, they'd get bored and leave her to die…or get mad and just kill her right there. Max wasn't sure which one she actually preferred right now. "Silent huh?"

"Maybe she's got a concussion or something," replied the smaller one with bucked teeth. "Hey, check her head TeeHee."

The girl Jokerz member named TeeHee laid alongside Max deep into the snow without a care and ran her fingers through Max's pink hair, giggling. "Pink hair. This girl's got style! I LIKE her!" TeeHee suddenly gripped the soft locks and yanked unexpectedly hard, causing Max to give a hiss of pain. TeeHee seemed pleased by this display as she gave Max a gentle pat on the head as a reward for her agony. "I love her sound of pain."

A second scrawny teen, twin to the other but minus the bucked teeth and oddly more attractive looking than his nerdy counterpart, sat on his hunches atop the drift with the chubby one. The smaller guy looked bored; the chubby one looked more so uncomfortable – like he didn't want to be here, like he realized joining the Jokerz was the biggest mistake of his existence. "I wouldn't call that pain," the tiny clown retorted with a yawn. "More like… _discomfort_."

TeeHee shot him an annoyed look. "Jig," she growled at the other thin twin rummaging through Max's pockets, "tell your brother to mind his manners."

"Shut up Jag," Jig commanded, resuming his search with frustration.

The gentle giant next to Jag twiddled his fingers. "It doesn't look like she's got anything. Let's bail."

But Teaser held up his hand to silence them. "Not so fast Bullhorn. There's always something she can give us." He trailed the blade tip down her jaw and neck, encircling her breast before trailing it lower until it rested just outside her womanly parts. Max's eyes widened. "See? There's a response! Tell you what babe, you give us a laugh and we let you live."

Max's breath became short and ragged. "I don't…have any…thing," she whispered, convulsing in the chill.

TeeHee cooed. "Awww look! She's cold!" In an instant she grabbed Max's jacket and fought with the zipper. Max's hand instinctively flew up and grabbed the girl's wrist as they struggled with one another for a brief second until she felt something strike her upside the head. Gibson grew limp for a second, and then felt a sharp tug as her jacket was ripped off her and donned onto the Joker female. "It fits!" the girl said, twirling for the boys appraisingly.

Teaser reached off to the side and grabbed the phone he'd kicked down and held it between he and his little broken captive. "Let's make a call. Hmmm," he hummed while scrolling through her directory until, "Ahhhh! Terry! That's the last person you talked to. Let's call Terry."

As badly as Gibson wanted the Joker to do just that, for whatever reason Max shook her head and pressed her freezing palms into his chest as the wild teen gave a cackle, hit call and put the phone on speaker. It rang only once before, " _Max! Max where are you?_ " The sound of his voice made her sigh in relief. His voice was like the angel's singing to her right now and she felt a flurry emotions begin to overwhelm her. Finally, a chance to saved! A chance to-.

Teaser pressed his hand with the knife in it over her mouth with a chuckle as the male voice repeated her name over and over again before the clown hung up. "Max huh?" he asked with a crooked glint. "What's that short for?" Oh God he was playing games with her! She wouldn't be found like this…and that's what he was aiming for – her freak out. Max whimpered nervously as panic began to take her and the cellular vibrated with an incoming call. Teaser waited until just before the fourth ring when he answered it, watching her fear and tension with amusement. " _Max? MAX?!"_ She could see the clown moving his finger once more to the "end" button and out of maddened desperation Gibson chomped down on Teaser's palm as he cursed and yanked it back. "TERRRRY!"

" _MAX?!_ "

"Terry help-UGH!" Teaser growled and slammed the blade into the girl's side as she gasped with a spring forward, clutching tight to the Jokerz member's shoulder with a disbelieving gaze towards the heavens. Her pupils shifted as she exhaled laboriously and Max stared right into his eyes. Seeming to enjoy the attention he was getting in the face of her demise the clown held the knife in place, ignoring the cries of the male on the other line, and leaned forward with a whisper of her beauty – kissing Max's jaw with a soft chuckle as her tears spilled over paling cheeks before quickly extracting the blood covered blade from the teen's flesh and his victim fell back into the snow, clutching her side as the white powder turned a pooling red.

The gathered clowns watch on in silence, Jag finding some amusement finally for the night as he leaned forward with a large smile. The gang leader lustfully overlooked her frame before, "Hey there Terry," Teaser huffed while watching her stare off into nothingness. "Found your friend here. She hasn't been much fun though, so we're gonna leave her."

" _Where is she?"_ the voice growled.

"Oh, just here," Teaser teased as his crew broke out into laughter. "I really hope you can find her in time, though, Terry. She's hurt real bad." Teaser applied pressure on her broken leg and the screams Max had called forth from before had nothing on what she did right now. The heavy set Joker atop the channel turned back over on his knees. Teaser hung up the phone and placed it on Max's stomach as she broke into spasms of agony. "Thanks for the fun Max. Catch ya later." He, Jig, and TeeHee scrambled up the incline with the sound of car doors slamming before silence engulfed the area again. Just like that, the Jokerz had left as quickly and randomly as they'd come.

The phone rang again, but Max couldn't find the initial strength to answer it. After about the third try she hit the answer button and brought the speaker to her ear. "Terry…" she whispered.

" _Max! Are you alright? Did they- of course they hurt you. I'm going to kill-!_ "

"Terry…" the teen's voice choked on tears as her eyes once more grew heavy. "He… _stabbed_ me!" The pooling red liquid oozing from her side had turned into a velvet river than traveled onward and showed no signs of flow halting. "I'm so tired…I don't think I'm gonna make…it…"

There was an immediate hesitation, but when Terry spoke again his voice was low and urging. She could hear what sounded like an engine revving up in the background. " _Stay with me, Max. Where are you? I'm coming right now._ "

"I can't…tired…" it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake as Max's stomach heaved with a difficult breath.

" _DAMNIT MAX! STAY AWAKE!"_ Terry suddenly burst out with anger. _"Where…Are….YOU?!_ "

She inhaled a sharp and drawn breath. Her leg had frozen once more, but now everything else was shutting down as well. "Don't cry at my…funeral…okay? It's not your…fault." He was screaming something in her ears but she couldn't quite make it out. God she was so tired. "Love you…always…have-."

" _MAX! Please babe,_ " his voice cut with a sob. " _Just tell me where you are…I'm coming to get you. I won't ever leave you alone again, I promise. Just tell me where you are…_ "

"Ditch…" And then there was a faint beeping sound as the call dropped. Max pulled back her cell to discover a completely blackened screen, and her heart lurched. She guessed the indeed had really come after all. The battery had died…now it was just her turn.

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

**_Here is chapter 3. I'm not particularly fond of it because it's mainly Terry's POV and i hate writing for him lol, but writing this has become a tad more difficult than i thought it would and now i just want to end it. Thanks to everyone who offered me support after the incident, and then even recently after i posted this story._**

 _ **To the guest reviewer** who pointed out that the characters are not like their tv selves, you're right. I perhaps forgot to mention that the characters here are OOC. The reason that they are OOC (mainly) is because this story I'm telling is my story. Max is passive because she's representative of me. Terry's not too knowledgeable about her family. I made a reference to Hooked Up in this story - so it's safe to assume that after that Max opened up to him about her home life. I wouldnt say Dana is manipulative, everyone knows her and Terry's relationship has been on again/off again throughout the series. She just wants her man back. What teenager won't attend a function that their ex is at if it means getting back together? The characters are in this situation because it's a story. I figured this would be the best story to get this craziness off my chest. As i mentioned before, it's based on true events. I got in an argument with my mother (more like she did the talking and i sat there and listened because i was not trying to get the shit beat out of me), i was walking home (though not from work) when a car came up behind me. To avoid getting hit, i stepped over a curb along the highway and slipped. I fell in a ditch that was so deep i wasnt visible from the road, snapping my left leg in half, fracturing my left ankle, and dislocating it. I had a major panic attack thing that my purse and groceries fell all over the place. i was so busy screaming trying to get the attention of the people in the building in front of me that i forgot i had a cell phone. But because i was on a highway no one could hear me, and apparently no one noticed me either from the building. I fell asleep in that snow covered ditch and just happened to wake up only because a man found me and woke me up and called for help. I was stuck in an emergency room for three hours just before they could find a doctor to give me anything for pain. Let me tell you, feeling every break and fracture and dislocation is NOT fun. I had to undergo two surgeries and months of PT just to learn to walk all over again. This is me taking my traumatic experience and trying to put it into a story to work as a healing process. But going into detail is painful and often times i can't even stand to type, much less remember. I almost died in that hole. Maybe i'm writing this story too soon - but writing is therapy and i thought after these couple years it would be easier, but it's not. hence the whole stabbing scenario. i HAD to put something more drastic that didnt happen to me in there just to keep my head. I probably shouldn't have wrote this story, BUT i've started it now and have to see it through. *shrug* But that's the great thing about fanfiction - the characters can be whatever we want them to be. We can involve events that would change their personality. And what's wrong with romance in the midst of chaos? Lots of stories, films even, have a crisis and relationships that blossom out of that crisis. It's practically everywhere on tv. Besides, Tax is what i do. My readers come to me for the TAX. But i thank you for your review. I always say reasonably constructive criticism is well appreciated and I'm glad you still took time to read it._

 _To the Legend of Korra comment reviewer: your very first review amused me. However, while i'm glad you enjoyed the hot mess, maybe you can keep LOK where it belongs - in LOK. My trauma is not some confused love tale. Thanks much._

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Three**

 _A Tense Pursuit_

The room froze. Hearing her cry for help had given McGinnis a frightening pause…but it was when she screamed with such fear and agony that it echoed through the room that everything came to an immediate, horrifying stop. It was like everyone and everything around him had dissipated, and all he could feel was her own personal terror, and the terror in which he had _for_ her. McGinnis's face paled and could feel the saliva glands in his mouth working overtime…he was going to be sick. And why wouldn't he be? Jokerz…Jokerz had Max? Terry opened his mouth to speak, to offer comfort even though he himself didn't feel any, but the line disconnected and the Neo-Batman after a moment of silence jolted back to reality and grabbed his pack off the couch beside Chelsea and began running for the front door – though not alone.

Nelson had his own cell in hand and practically jumped off the front porch after McGinnis. The jock slammed a fist into his archenemy's chest to momentarily stop the boy. "Hey, I hate your guts and all, but I'm gonna help." It was a statement, not a question. As far as McGinnis went Nelson could give a rats ass if the former delinquent jumped off the Gotham bridge – in fact he'd probably push him off himself – but when it came to Max, the smart mouth, lovable little geek that saw him as more than just a helmet head? Well, Nelson would fight for her in a hot second. He cared about her too – she was his friend, a real friend; and he'd never forgive himself if he didn't step in when she could have needed him most.

Terry couldn't even muster up the energy to think of a rebuke. Fact of the matter was he needed the help. Terry nodded quickly. "Fine. You take downtown, check the VRROOM and shiz." Nelson scoffed but headed into his sports car making a few calls before peeling out the drive. Dana stood on the front porch dialing into Chelsea's home phone multiple times as panic reached her features. Max was her friend too; romantic issues were immediately cast aside. She and Chelsea had thought that maybe Max was just late – neither of them could have ever imagined something like this was happening! Well, she knew that anything was possible – this was Gotham for pete's sake! – but not to _them_. Even when Chelsea had been through the craziness of that mad house, even when Dana had been trapped in the underground by that creepo with the rats, even through all that they never thought they would suffer under the hell of this city. But this and their situations only proved that no one was exempt from the dangers. The line picked up and Dana began speaking fast into the mouthpiece, turning her back to them and standing in the doorway so the operator could hear her better. He could hear her addressing what sounded like a 911 dispatcher.

McGinnis climbed into his car, but Chelsea was right there pressed against the window and he impatiently rolled it down. "Where are you going?" she asked unnecessarily with a squeak.

"To check around," he answered hard, trying to keep his Batman voice suppressed as he turned the key ferociously and sent the engine roaring to life.

Tears began streaming down Cunningham's face. "What can we do?" She was trying to keep her composure maintained…and failing.

Terry looked her over and sighed, placing a gentle hand on her arm; he could see that she needed something to do, something to make the girl feel like she was actually making a difference, a dent, in helping out. "Just talking to the GPD is gonna be a hassle. Contact the main precinct; tell em you need to talk to Commissioner Gordon, that it's an emergency and that McGinnis sent you. In the meantime keep trying to reach Max's cell. Maybe she'll answer and tell us where she is so we or the police can find her." He frowned at her slow, deranged nod. "We're gonna find her Chels." And without another word he had sped off, mind racing a hundred miles a minute…he just wished the car could catch up with his thoughts.

Why hadn't he just followed his gut and picked her up? Why hadn't he at least asked where she was? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Damn the Jokerz, damn Mrs. Gibson, damn MAX! The car accelerated as he raced through the Gotham highways. The world passed by in a hazy blur as nothing else mattered. Right now he needed to move fast. She sounded weak on the phone and – Terry scowled – losing blood. Time was of the essence. Even though he didn't know the girl's exact location the teen was pretty sure Max wasn't downtown where he'd sent Nash…unless she had been heading that way after they got off the phone? Terry shook his head, doubting that. She was heading home. Plus, when they were on the phone before and even just moments ago there hadn't been any substantial amount of background noise – no heavy traffic meant no busy streets: and downtown Gotham was unbearably busy on a usual basis. Sure anything was possible but McGinnis didn't make searching there his priority given it was the least likely place. Besides, he knew Nelson was gonna help whether he liked it or not – why not send him out of Batman's way?

He pressed an automatic call button on the car's touch screen radio as he turned off the highway and proceeded to that long winding private road. The line answered. "Open the door," Terry commanded.

" _The garage door?_ " answered the old man's voice curiously.

"The _other_ door," McGinnis growled. Silence answered but the road ahead of him descended into a lit underground tunnel. Terry floored it.

" _Mind sharing some details?_ " asked Bruce, noting his protégé's sudden foul attitude.

"I need you to trace Max's phone."

From within the house living room Bruce Wayne turned away from the blazing fireplace where Ace was snuggled near comfortably asleep. The former Dark Knight raised a brow questionably, but used his cane as support and rose from the large leather arm chair, making his way to the grandfather clock and pulling the hidden lever. The clock slid across the floor practically in silence revealing a descending stairway. Wayne began to make his way down just as the sound of screeching tires met him. Bruce frowned. He hated it when McGinnis pushed the vehicles to the limit like that. Reckless kid. Wayne reached the bottom of the stairs to see Terry was already at the computer typing a set of commands into the keypad. His cell was in hand and was tugging a USB cord from the main panel, shoving it into the cellular.

Bruce sat down with a grunt into the chair, slapping Terry's hands away and taking over. Despite old age his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in controls and commands that Terry couldn't even dream of understanding much less initiating into the sophisticated system. Almost instantly the cell phone lit up, and a set of code flashed over the main computer screen. When Bruce looked over his shoulder Terry was pulling on the finishing touches of his super tech suit. "I'm still waiting on those details, Terry," pressed Wayne, eyes focusing back on the screen, "and my patience is wearing thin."

Terry placed a small recorder chip-like object beside his boss's hand – it was something he'd snatched from the old man's arsenal and kept on him to test out later. Later came sooner than expected. Bruce eyed the device but plugged it into a secondary audio panel to the left. A small window popped up on the side of the computer and a line that measured sound ran through it. At first all he heard was Terry's cool voice asking where Max was with no answer before disconnecting. Then the call commenced again – once more there was initial silence until…there was a short sound, followed by an unknown male's voice cursing in pain; followed almost instantly by Max hollering Terry's name. Bruce shifted his eyes about as he listened to the conversation and stiffened at the screams. It sent an involuntary shiver up his spine. Terry commenced in trying to find Max's location, but she was so weak-. Bruce turned off the audio. He'd heard everything he needed as the old man once more began typing into the system. A second small screen popped up onto the main computer and Bruce's fingers tapped over the pad loudly.

"What are you doing?" Terry demanded when Bruce turned his attention to the other screen as opposed to the line of code flashing before them. "You're supposed to be tracking Max's phone!"

Brue never lost focus from what he was doing, although his response was just as snarky as the tone McGinnis was using; obviously irritated that Terrence was not thinking straight – even in the midst of stress it was his job as Batman to be able to keep his head to be able to configure clues and answers properly, which could lead to a plan that could potentially save the life or lives he was so concerned over. "And I am," Wayne replied. "But maybe you haven't noticed the code whizzing across the screen. So give me a second to break it down to you: In order to trace Max's specific device I have to hack not only her carrier's satellite, but also hack any other system that might be monitoring said satellite or code for potential terrorist activity that would have the FBI, CIA, and NSA right at my doorstep. That is a lot of code to whiz through without detection." Bruce patted the main control module respectively. "This computer might be powerful, but it's not careless; neither should we be. It's basically a digitized Batman – that should open your eyes wide enough." Terry huffed, tapping his foot with impatience. "In the meantime," continued Bruce, unscathed by the attitude, "while I work on the trace I'M going to search something else that might help, something I noticed Max said. And YOU'RE going to get out there and start looking. Once I get this narrowed down I'll contact you."

"Fine!" snapped McGinnis as he pulled the cowl over his face and jogged over to the Batmobile, leaping inside once the roof pulled back. Damn it. Even though he'd never admit it aloud, Terry absolutely loathed when Bruce put shit into perspective like that – mainly because he was usually always right…like he was right now. Though the teen was curious as to what Bruce claimed to have noticed – McGinnis hadn't picked up anything out of the usual (well, other than the usual). Could there really be something he missed? The thought of that was unnerving for the neo-hero. Batman touched a few buttons on the control panel and the lid closed while the interior lit up a vibrant red. The thrusters edged their way to life and the launch pad rotated for the tunnel he'd just entered in. Terry flipped a few switches above his head before gripping the throttle and pushing it forward – the Batmobile roared in response and lunged forward down the tunnel and then out into the evening sky surrounding Wayne Manor. It was getting dark. Very dark. He needed to find her fast. McGinnis headed for the first place to cross off his list. He gripped the handle and weaved through the buildings once he reached the Gotham downtown district. Down below he caught a glimpse of Nelson Nash's car parked in front of the VRROOM, and the jock talking with some young employee that knew Max's usual visitation periods like the back of his hand. He was a creepy kid, but meant no harm so Max tolerated him – and if Max tolerated him, then so did everybody else.

" _Terry?"_ Bruce's voice came over the radio.

"Yeah?"

" _Dana is calling your cell."_

"Can you transfer her without disrupting the trace?"

Bruce sighed _. "It will slow the process for a few minutes, but I suggest you talk to her – she's been calling nonstop since you left. Maybe they found Max?"_

Terry eased on the throttle and brought the Bat mobile above the buildings skyline, hopeful. "Okay, patch her through." The vigilante took a deep breath as he heard the line click. Patched. "Dana?" he answered in his usual teen voice.

" _Terry, where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you for forever!"_ Dana shrieked.

"I've been out searching. What's up? Did they find her?" he inquired, holding his breath.

Dana sniffled and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. He gave her a moment to settle and she appreciated it greatly _. "No, they haven't found her. I called because Chelsea finally managed to get the Commissioner and Gordon said she's gonna send out a few squad cars to check out the usual Jokerz hideaways they know about. But Terry,"_ Dana suddenly whispered. _"There's something going on. Nelson called and said he heard something about Jokerz initiations and stuff tonight – that means any gang could be a part of this, and that the cops are gonna be swamped trying to stop the initiates from wreaking havoc. I honestly don't know how much help Gotham P.D. will be."_

Terry raised a brow. "Since when do the Jokerz do mass initiations on one night?"

" _I don't know Terry, but it's gonna be dangerous out there. What if the group that hurt her tells their friends? What if they all go back to her and-AND-!"_ Dana burst out into maddened sobs and McGinnis knew the fears that crossed her mind. Anything was possible when the Jokerz were involved. They could torture Max, sit and watch and her suffer, kill her…make use of her – Terry swallowed – inability to fight back.

"It's gonna be okay Dana," McGinnis assuredly consoled Tan. "We'll find her before then. Look, thanks for keeping me updated. Stay with Chelsea and if you hear anything from Nelson tell him to be careful out there."

" _I will,"_ whispered Dana _. "You be careful too, Ter. I mean it, the Jokerz aren't anything to fuck with. They're total psychos."_

By the time Terry was done with them they'd _need_ psychiatric evaluation. McGinnis hung up the phone and brought the vehicle back down into the path of the buildings with a hard dive, whipping it at speeds that caused his belly to churn. The search was placed back in his hands, but regardless of whatever the GPD had on their plate tonight it wasn't like Terry McGinnis was going to leave the complete trust of finding Max with them. If they were so good at what they did, what would Gotham need Batman for anyway? No, this was personal and needed to be treated as such. First thing was first: he had to check out her apartment, make sure that there was nothing left behind that could serve as an indication for his best friend's whereabouts. Typically Max did what she wanted _when_ she wanted without a care in the world about being accountable to anyone for her actions; when her parents were home, on the other hand, she tended to give them a rundown on her plans. The Dark Knight smirked to himself – even if they had a problem with it, it's not like they could tell their daughter what she could or couldn't do. Max was independent the majority of the time, even when her sister happened to be in town. They didn't pay her bills or take care of her – Max handled that herself. Hell, the girl was making a killing in credits with private tutoring sessions or doing jocks homework. Anything she needed or wanted she took care of. He had to admire that about her; she was always so optimistic, always open to seeing things from an outside angle. When things were rough and McGinnis or the Batman needed a different perspective, Max was the person to turn to. He'd asked her once how she was so inquisitive. Max had leaned back in her desktop chair and said contently, "When you grow up on the outside, things become waaay clearer. You get to see things in a better view than you ever could while inside." Damn she was too real for her own good. He loved that brash outlook, that confidence yet appealing compassion about her. Max was the type of person who could cut you up, but then try and help to piece you back together again; and everybody respected that about her.

Within a few minutes the future vigilante reached the desired destination and brought the car to an abrupt halt alongside the complex and initiated the autopilot as it hovered stealthily. The inside of the apartment was almost completely darkened and Terry climbed out the car, hopped onto the balcony, then slid open the window outside of Max's bedroom. As he crawled inside he took a deep memorable sigh. How many nights had he crept inside of here to pay the brain a visit – whether out of business, recreation, or the much needed patch job that she so readily gave? One too many accounts. She was always here waiting for him in some manner or other; the teen was used to seeing her smiling face welcoming him inside. But standing here in this emptied room with the knowledge that this was the last image he'd ever have of Max's room – dark, cold, empty – made his chest constrict painfully. Terry had never imagined what life would be like without seeing his best friend's deviously charming countenance awaiting him, but if this was any sign of what would face him then the boy wanted nothing to do with it. For the first time Terry wished that he'd never met Max – never come to have cared and relied on her so much…maybe then she would never be in the situation she was in…or maybe the idea of possibly losing her wouldn't hurt so much.

No. Now was not the time to even be thinking about something like that. He had to get moving. Batman wandered around the bedframe, eyes focused as he shook back the worries and put all attention on observing everything in caution and detail.

The bed wasn't made: and lying across the comforter was a change of clothes: a pair of dark jeans, and long sleeved open shouldered black t-shirt with the silver image of some vid game character on it. He squinted in thought. No, not a character, but an insignia. The heart from Kingdom Hearts. She loved that game for whatever reason. His mind wheels in remembrance: a few days ago Max had been talking about inviting Terry back over after the study group to teach him how to play…

Terry walked over to the dresser and picked up a piece of paper sprawled aimlessly on the furniture. Reading it he found it to be a plane ticket to Metropolis set for next month. Why would she have this just laying out like this? Maybe to use in her argument against Mrs. Gibson? Batman treaded out the bedroom and searched the rest of the apartment until arriving in the living room where the vigilante clenched his fists. No one had been here since the fight ended, he deduced. Max and her mother and sister left around the same time.

If by chance the youngest female of the Gibson family had come back home earlier in the day then there would be some kind of sign of a return. The lights would be on for one thing – Max always turned on the lights when she left in the evening or had no intention of coming home until late. She did this so she wouldn't be walking into a dark apartment, but also as a precaution. The complex wasn't exactly in a bad neighbor – in fact it was considered "luxury" – but still there were reckless petty thieves in every neighborhood; if it looked like someone was home the chance of an invasion or robbery diminished – common knowledge. However the apartment was darkened, meaning the last time someone was inside of it must have been hours ago earlier in the day; no lights had been turned on because the resident intended for someone to be back before dark.

Also, if she had come back she wouldn't have left the plane ticket just lying around. Max would have properly put it someplace where it could remain safe. And then there was the change of clothes. Why would Max just have clothes laying out in preparation like that if she wasn't planning on wearing them later on?

Terry gritted his teeth. She must have set these out for this evening to wear to the study group. But if they were still here in perfect condition that meant Max hadn't been caught by the Jokerz while on the way to meet her friends at Chelsea's. She'd been in trouble before even getting home…which suggested his best friend could literally have been anywhere between here and downtown. Max could cover a hell of a lot of ground when she was pissed and McGinnis was righteously peeved at that uncanny ability of hers right now.

The apartment door opened all of a sudden and with a flick of the light switch in walked Max's mom and sister chuckling like happy little hens much to the Batman's blatant irritation; that is, until they saw him. Max's sister gasped with a jump while her mother dropped a shopping bag and the daughter's keys on the floor alongside a shriek. "BATMAN?!" Mrs. Gibson cried. "What in the-?"

Batman glared and faced both women. Carefully choosing his words so as to not let on that he had any definite knowledge of them that could jeopardize his identity, the hero asked in a stern voice, "Are you Maxine Gibson's mother?" Astounded that he would even be addressing her, Mrs. Gibson nodded absentmindedly. He took a deep breath. "Your daughter is missing."

Mrs. Gibson's eyes widened in a brief flitter of concern before she smiled, dismissing the thought that anything like that was capable of happening to her family. "That's impossible. Max is with her friends."

Idiot. "No," growled Batman, "she's not. Her friends got a call from her. She's in trouble. She never got to them…and from what I'm seeing – never came home." He started to reach out as her sister fell to the ground in shock and the mother's mouth gaped open in disbelief. After listening to annoying whimpers that such news couldn't possibly be true the hero scowled. "Have you even TRIED calling her?" the vigilante snapped harshly.

Mrs. Gibson covered her mouth and grabbed the door to steady herself. "We…got into a fight," she whimpered as if that were some form of justification for being a horrible mother. "Wh-what happened? Where's my baby?" The mother struggled to stand upright to flaunt an air of superiority that right now had left her. "I want Max found!" Mrs. Gibson's voice attempted to threaten but rather squeaked under the pathetic attempt.

Batman scoffed and headed for the living room window where from here he'd still make it to the car with ease. "I'll find her." He engaged his jet boots and flew out the window with spread arms before landing flawlessly onto the roof of the midnight painted mobile and disappearing inside. He left the females behind in silence and pulled off, frowning in rage.

Out of the hours gone by not once did they think to see where Max was? What kind of mother was that? You get into an argument with your child who takes off for a walk in mother fucking Gotham City – and don't call even once to _check_ on her? Who did that? No wonder Max couldn't stand to be in the same room as her self-absorbed mother for longer than fifteen minutes! She deserved more than that craziness. No one deserved to have a parent they butted heads with 24/7. McGinnis winced slightly – he and Warren didn't always see eye to eye, but even when Terry was a complete ass his father was always there to support and love him…up until the end. And it wasn't until Warren was gone that the teen finally saw just how much he loved him; Terry would die before no one realized how important Max was until _after_ she was gone.

He whizzed over the new section of this area that was being renovated into a strip mall and townhouses. There were no street lights here, and he couldn't make out much in the darkening street but didn't bother to look. Max wouldn't take this risky way home; obviously the brain had enough sense not to even try it. He was confident in that. She had to be somewhere in between here and downtown…and he knew the right people to ask.

* * *

Max lay there in the greyish black evening nearly completely surrendered into sleep – but there had been an approaching hum that jolted the girl awake with a groan of pain and explosion of chills. So she wasn't dead yet after all: even still the ability to keep her eyes open was growing far more difficult than she could have ever imagined. But the sound – it was faint, yet somehow still powerful…sleek…like a purr…like the low calls of…Max's eyes popped with realization. Like the low calls of bats! She remembered telling McGinnis that his whip sounded like a blend of an engine and screeching bats – out of this world, beautiful as well as intimidating. And NOW that sound was coming towards her! There was no other car in Gotham with that engine! He was here. He had found her!

It approached closer from the left and she struggled to sit up as the female raised a hand to flag him down. He was here! He-. Max's face contorted in agony as she caught the black blur fly right over her at top speed and listened with horror as the vehicle drifted farther away from towards the opposite end of Gotham. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Maxine hollered at the top of her lungs. "NOOOOOAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" She pummeled the sides of the channel with her fists as she beat the earth and cried aloud with fresh tears. "TEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYY!" Though of course he could not hear her, and the world became silent and cold yet again.

In time her sobs quieted, and her body grew limp under the stress and strain to the point she no longer had anything left within her to fight. The chills stopped, the pain faded; succumbed in grief, Max had finally reached the conclusion that she wasn't going to get out of this. It was over. With her only savior flying by without even noticing her Gibson had officially lost ALL hope of living. It was over. And for the last time, Maxine Gibson accepted death willingly in all of its cold, soothing, welcoming glory and embrace.

* * *

Batman growled, punching a clown in the jaw with enough force that his jaw cracked out of alignment alongside a shrill scream before collapsing onto the hardened pavement. The hero of Gotham had been all over this damned city; this was the fourth Jokerz hell hole he'd invaded demanding information, and the third initiation the Bat had managed to cut short. And with every departure he made was the arrival of the seemingly always too late GPD. Yet no matter how many faces the young Batman had bashed in no one seemed to know anything about the pink haired black girl. A set of cop cars pulled up and out stepped Commissioner Barbara Gordon who gave the reimagined vigilante a disapproving glare before he took off for the skies. Terry didn't give a damn about whether or not she liked his antics right now – it was completely black out here and the weather freezing and steadily dropping. If he didn't find Max tonight he might never find her at all.

McGinnis sat down in the cockpit of his ride and made a call. "Bruce," the pupil impatiently began.

" _I was just getting ready to call you."_

"You got something new for me?" Terry questioned tensely.

" _The trace is almost complete, about another eight minutes to go. And I've got that other search narrowed down. Ditch."_

The youth hesitated with an upraised corner of his lip. "What?"

Bruce's hands could be heard typing in the background. _"Max said the word, 'Ditch' before you lost the call with her. At first I thought maybe she was using some kind of new age lingo, or telling you to just forget about looking for her; but then it hit me."_ Wayne glared at the small screen in assessment before continuing. _"It wasn't as complex as that. 'Ditch' isn't some kind of youthful code – it's a location."_

Terry nearly slammed on the brakes as the young man practically screamed into the com-link, "Are you telling me that Max is somewhere near a ditch?!" All his fears seemed to jump from a 10 to a 100.

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds. _"I think she's IN a ditch."_ There was an eerie quiet that answered the old man. _"That's what I've been searching: public records of sinkholes, drainage systems, if it's in the ground I pulled it up – known about, and even nuisance calls for the city to handle. Problem is: Gotham is full of drainage systems or channels. So I narrowed it down to a ten mile radius around Max's complex. Once this trace wraps up I'll be able to get you an even tighter area to comb."_

Terry let out a drawn sigh as he glanced at the clock at the center of his control panel – 6 minutes and 47 seconds. _"I'm sending the list to your computer now, but in the meantime there's something you ought to know."_

"Which would be?"

" _Dana called again. I took the liberty in answering and she relayed a message. She said Nelson was coming out of the diner near Max's apartment—,"_ Terry cursed internally. He told that asshole to keep his search downtown OUT of the Bat's way, _"-and he overheard a small group of Jokerz talking about a girl they played with…said they might head back to see if she could still be any fun. Terry,"_ Bruce tempted, _"they said she's in a ditch."_

Without another word McGinnis turned the vehicle around and headed back for the diner down from Max's apartment in hope of the clowns still being there or in that area. Max loved that diner to pieces; she claimed they had the best chili burger this side of New York, and often talked about taking him there to try it out. But Terrence never seemed to get the time to oblige. They spent most of their days picking up some fast food cheeseburger or something. He swore right now before God and everybody that when all this was over, he was going to that diner and would treat her to however many damn chili burgers she wanted; even if it forced him into bankruptcy.

The list of drainage systems and where they lead popped up on the screen and McGinnis paused his silent promises to evaluate it. A few he was able to cross off just based on their location – they were complete passages that Max would never even take, going actually a farther distance from her home and leading away from the subway or towards limited bus access. But the others? He saw Nelson's red sports car sitting in the diner parking lot, and much to Batman's relief, caught eye of a group of clowns converged around a raggedy truck. He turned on the camouflage and left the Bat Mobile in an alley beside the restaurant before leaping out the vehicle with his own camo initiated as the hero crept forward to hear the Jokerz current conversation in hopes of catching details on Max. Upon closer approach he recognized Max's favorite jacket donned upon the female clown. How badly he wanted to reach out and yank it off her drugged up frame.

"Can we go back to play with the girl?" inquired the female Jokerz with an annoying whine, running her hand along the obvious crew leader's chest.

A set of twins sipped on their drinks in unison. The better looking one of the two rested a foot on the back tire of the truck. "Her scream _is_ one hell of a turn on." His brother chuckled, punching him in the shoulder admiringly.

"She's probably dead by now," stated the overweight giant solemnly through bites into a giant hunk of carrot cake, earning himself a compassionate pat on the back by the handsome skinny twin as if to say, "you'll get used to it, big guy."

The leader of the crew leaned back on the hood of the car with a longing sigh. "Nah. As much fun as she is, we've got initiations tonight. Remember the last time we didn't make it to Rowdy's initiation ritual because we were having fun?" The rest of the laughing gang gave an ominous shiver. "We'll see if she's still alive afterward. And if she is," he gave a devious smirk, "it'll be great to see how much fun a popsicle can be." But his rising chuckle was cut off almost instantly by an unseen force gripping and clamping down on his throat. The Jokerz released the girl on his waist in panic and grabbed at the air, somehow surprised when his hands managed to grip something. The rest of his crew gave shouts of surprise and attempted to attack the unknown entity out of protection for their leader, only to be quickly dismissed by a sudden explosion of nerve gas that had them keeled over on the ground in painful discomfort. "Wha-aaahck!" the Joker struggled to speak through breaths.

"Question," came a voice as slowly the air around them evaporated to reveal a buff figure engulfed in black, that red ominous insignia burning so prominently that it evoked misery within the clown. Batman's white cowled eyes furrowed dangerously. "Did this 'popsicle' have pink hair?" He squeezed the throat tighter, causing the clown's eyes to roll. "Well?"

"Yeh….ahhhck! Ugh! Yesh-ughck!"

" _McGinnis,"_ came Bruce's voice over the com-link. _"The trace is complete. The phone appears damaged so I can't give an exact location, but I can put you in a two mile radius of her. Sending the map to you now."_

Good. Between that and this asshole's directions he would have Max in no time. Things were starting to look up for the night. "I'm going to ask you once, and only once." The Batman brought the teen's face closer with bared teeth and a voice that revealed something frightening as he commanded in a growl, "Where. Is. She?"

* * *

He'd left the clowns sprawled about the diner parking lot completely unconscious and called Gordon with directions on where to get them before taking off through the alley, following the coordinates on the map and the clown's description of where she was. Both accounts revealed the back alleys that ran the length near the construction site for the revamped residential area not far from Max's house. Part of Batman couldn't believe that the coordinates were correct because this area as it was right now wasn't the best place for anybody to be traveling down. He was pissed because Max should have known better than this! But he was also disbelieving because just a while before he'd flown right over this sector and saw nothing. Could it be possible that he'd gone right past her without even noticing it? That thought petrified him to the core.

He turned on the spot light and began combing through the on and off again drainage channels on both sides of the road. He spotted trash and homeless people huddled against one another to block out the cold, but so far nothing else. "Damnit Max!" he growled low, pushing farther ahead. "I'm not seeing anything Bruce," he told the old man on the other line.

" _She's there Terry."_ Bruce was watching through the Bat Mobile's exterior camera to see if he could spot something that his protégé might miss. Two eyes were better than one.

"No, she's not! I-," his voice cut off instantly as the light shone on something red soaked into the white snow of an incredibly deep channel. McGinnis swallowed and edged the light further up the length of this particular system, noticing the line of red was getting thicker and thicker the farther up he went. Oh God.

Then he saw her. The light was right on her and the pink hair was a dead giveaway. For a brief moment he felt astounding relief, but at her stillness he felt his heart sink. Why wasn't she moving? The lid lifted from the car and Batman stared down at her over the edge. "MAX!" he hollered. But there was no answer. He dropped down from the car and landed some feet away; then took off like a bat out of hell until he stood over her with a terrified gaze. Looking down at her left ankle the boy nearly threw up at the sight of it lying completely flat on its side, swollen. He could make out the bone in the left leg poking up against the fabric of her pants and couldn't even imagine the agony that she must have felt. Max was lying on her back, one hand limply resting again her side as red liquid stained between the fingers and pooled all about her. "Max?" Batman dropped to his knees and reached shaky hands for her greyed face and touched her icy cheek with a gasp. Her eyes were closed as if asleep, but this couldn't be sleep…she wasn't answering him. "Max," he tried again, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. "Max!" Still no answer, no sign of life. Terry shook his head as his face crumbled in agony under a horrid realization. "MAX!" He slipped his hands underneath the girl's back and pulled her body upwards, feeling her body slump lifelessly against him as her head dropped back and hand fell into the snow. "Max!" he whimpered, touching her face. "Wake up Max! I'm here. I found you! MAX!"

" _Terry, she's gone."_

"SHUT UP!" McGinnis screamed at the Bat Mobile angrily before turning his attention back to his best friend. "No! No no nooooooo! MAX! DAMNIT MAX! WAKE UP! MAAAAAAAX!"

He laid her back down in the snow, cupped his fists together and pressed them against her chest; then began pumping into her frame repeatedly, counting out numbers aloud. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,-Max!" He pumped a few more times before tilting her chin back and covered her mouth with his own – he blew, feeling her chest rise with the intake of oxygen. McGinnis pulled back and looked at her. Still nothing. Desperate he began roughly pumping into her chest again.

" _Terry…"_

"Either you call an ambulance or shut the fuck up!" Bruce remained silent and watched as the lad commenced the CPR through teary eyes. The old man zoomed in on Max's face and couldn't stop the thought that came to his mind: She looked so peaceful.

"MAAAAAAAAAAAAX!"

To Be Continued…

* * *

 _This story should hopefully be wrapped up in about one or two more chapters._


	4. Chapter 4

_here's something quick I threw together. sorry if it's not the best. I also posted a new chapter to TEH tonight for those readers. As I mentioned there i'm going to be incredibly busy over these passing months which will probably cut into my writing time so please bear with me and I promise I will do everything in my power to update ASAP. I apologize for any typos or that shiznet. I really just wanted to update it._

 _guest reviewer: ya know - you prove a valid point. A very valid point indeed. I will admit that. ^_^ Anyways, if you would like to discuss the story further feel free to message me! I love when my readers discuss stuff with me in my messages - it's actually helped make me a better writer. So yeah._

 _alright guys. read away. And lol to the readers who lost their shizzle with Max's death: FORGIVE MEEEEEEEEEEEE! :D_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Four**

 _Breathe_

She'd heard people talk about a light at the end of a tunnel, of a supernatural pull that guided them upwards towards it – but honestly the last thing Max had recollection of was the blurred vision of her eyelids closing as they caught glimpse of a vapor of smoke – her last breath – rise into the air in a mystical dance before the world grew black. From there it seemed as if nothing but darkness surrounded the girl. Gibson was aware that she was gone – but had no idea as to _where_. It was if her very memories and senses had become jumbled then dissipated altogether. Was that even possible? The girl felt lost in a void yet had no real thought of how to escape it; perhaps content in being lost. Was there some kind of in between realm? A place which lingered in the middle of life and heaven or hell? Was she even dead to begin with? It was absolutely odd how confused yet self-aware Maxine Gibson was. Like, this couldn't be normal…could it?

Though it wasn't like she could do anything about it now; only debate on what would come next. Would she go to hell because she'd been pissed at her mom? Ya know, the whole "honor thy father and mother" bit? She scoffed. Did that even apply when her mother had been a total dreg to her? Confusion. Though once again, it was too late to wonder about that. Max had accepted the end – after all, there was no hope. What use would it be to suffer any longer when no one-?

The void shifted suddenly and Max – or her spirit? Whatever – was thrown about the obscurity in an invisible whirlwind. A flare of pain rested beneath her breast as a soft thump made itself present before her body grew numb once more to sensation. The hell was that? Immediately Gibson became dumbfounded while she searched about the void for some indication of an answer to what made no sense. How could she be dead and yet feel _pain_? She wasn't in hell. What shizzle dizzle-? The void tilted again much more violently this time, throwing the being down as a frightfully conquering rush of air overwhelmed Maxine to the point she gasped and clutched at her throat with a whimper. Confusion shifted to fear; and Gibson daughter pleaded through faint gasps for her assault to please come to an end.

" _ **Max!"**_ came a soft whisper filled with urgency. _**"Max wake up!"**_ Her brown irises flared open with a bolt. Terry? Her grip on her throat lessened as she tried to unravel the tangled reality in which she found herself. _**"Max, wake up!"**_ It WAS him!

" **TERRY!"** Max's mind seemed to scream out. A white line shone above her in response to her mental cry, and for the first time a swelling feeling of relief rushed through the young woman's heart as she felt it make the toil to beat once more…

The solidity of the void vanished into pools of tar that reached out for the girl as if recognizing its inhabitant was on the verge of departure. The tar hooked around her ankles with a guttural, hypnotizing moan that urged its quarry to stay – almost engulfing Gibson in a sudden drowsiness and frailty. This couldn't be the place she thought it was – this could not be a willing world if it wished to force her here. No. She didn't want this! Max struggled to her feet, desperately trying to fight off the sticky captor off but seemingly to no avail. She was wrong: Max hadn't _accepted_ death. If she had, she wouldn't be struggling – maybe not even _here_ in this strange realm as if still debating between life and death. She'd given up; giving up couldn't be the same as acceptance – not in this! Gibson wasn't ready to die – she'd only been afraid of waiting for help to come; afraid of the disappointment of being alone again. _**"MAX!"**_

It was all perfectly clear now – and in her realization came a newfound strength and resolve as the girl put all of her strength in resisting the ever holding void. She didn't WANT to die! Max looked up at the light that grew closer, reaching a hand upwards as the void crawled along her frame, easing its force upon her; trying to drag its captive back down into the darkness for good. **"TERRY!"** Like spider webs the void completely engulfed her chest and now its strands gripped about her face. But Max growled defiantly and strained, eyes never leaving from the light as if in fear that an aversion of her gaze meant a seal in the teen's demise; her outstretched fingers reached as far as they could. She didn't want to die. The blackness oozed along her arm. The light nearly touched her fingertips. She wanted to LIVE!

" _ **MAAAAAAAX!"**_

* * *

Brown eyelids pulled back open and lungs sucked in a long, grateful breath before shifting irises found a black suited figure hunched over its chest in defeat. The black donned creature was still and silent like a statue that at first it didn't appear he was real until his body trembled against her; though she could not tell if it was due to the chill or grief. Max Gibson, revived from an entrapment that lingered between life and true death, opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was so dry it hurt and nearly choked her. So instead the young woman tenderly reached out a red decorated hand and placed it against the cowled cheek of her dear friend. With a start he whipped his gaze up to her, and Batman grinned in sorrowed relief.

"Max…" he whispered to her, cupping her face in his palms as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead many times thankfully while lingering tears drenched the hero's cheeks – tears of grief now transformed to those of happiness. "Max," he cooed her name over and over again between the praised kisses. He'd given up on her resurrection and yet she had returned – she was here, and the teen's emotions were wrapped up in a fell swoop of joy in her life and pain of her loss.

In all the time they'd known each other, Max didn't think she had ever seen Terry cry before. Somehow it was a humbling experience as opposed to a shocking one; especially if he cried over her. Dummy. Gibson shakily touched his chest, pushing the boy back a little to look into those white eyes alongside a soft yet incredibly feeble smile. She opened her mouth to speak but rather choked slightly, causing the Batman to caress her head and shush her. "Don't talk," the vigilante commanded quietly. "Save your strength. I'm going to get you out of here." After assessing and gauging the surrounding walls of snow, the Dark Knight turned his attention for the floating vehicle; starting to weigh the idea of moving her himself. He knew he could do it, but the real question was if he _should_. Terrence McGinnis may have possessed the skills to stop injustice throughout Gotham City but the lad did NOT have medical training (save CPR) – and given Max's injuries he felt a certain level of confliction in attempting to move the girl than he normally would. "Bruce…"

" _Don't even think about it, McGinnis,"_ replied the old man harshly almost reading his pupil's thoughts – though deep down he felt his soul quiver in a wash of emotion: sadness, hope….relief. Bruce Wayne never felt as old as he did right then. Hell, in those few minutes he almost considered retiring…almost. _"I've got an ambulance on the way. Try not to move her. God knows what other injuries she could have."_ Wayne paused, staring into the screen before him with furrowed brows and laced fingers. _"And McGinnis?"_ he adds as the sound of approaching sirens grew suddenly louder. _"Good work…"_

The hero had nothing to say – he didn't think what he did was a good job. Sure bringing Max back was the best thing he'd ever done in his life. But the madness he'd executed in doing it, his sheer refusal to let her go…it…well, bothered him. Terry loved Max beyond words – but it never became truly apparent just how important she was to him until the moment he saw her lying there in the snow covered in her own blood; dead. He'd taken this gig for granted plenty of times. He'd cockily always assumed nothing could ever happen to the people he cared the most about because he was freaking "Batman". But finding Max like that: cold and dead, no longer alive to yell at him for being late or put the boy in check with her attitude, made the teen realize just how dangerous this world is, how frail the people around him could be – and how mortal _he_ really was. The young predecessor could see that anyone close to him (any friend or family member) could easily be hurt or killed – and just as easily there could be a day when there would be nothing McGinnis could do nothing about it. Terry had never thought of what it would be like if he couldn't get there in time…until the moment when he'd gotten there too _late_.

The ambulance and Gotham P.D. patrol cars came to a skidding halt alongside the ditch. Not like they could miss it with a giant headlight coming out of the Batmobile in the middle of nowhere. Instantaneously the EMTs were out their vehicle and sliding down the snow covered embankment, barking to each other what they needed and looking Max over. With the quiet washed away, Max's eyes widened for a brief moment as Batman suddenly leaped back to give the technicians room to do their work, yet he remained in the ditch in her view – keeping a close eye over her in disapproval of the newcomers. Bats knew this was their jobs but it made McGinnis uncomfortable with having to leave the girl's side so shortly after finding her, even if it was for a brief moment.

One of the technicians (an older built guy with a whitened beard and wise, compassionate eyes) winced as he lifted the pants up her frozen left leg gingerly. It was so cold the skin had turned blue and become swollen over in a manner that made even him cringe – just when a guy thought he'd seen it all… "Leg's broken," he told his partner who was checking Max's head for injury. "The bone's snapped in half, clean through. Ankle looks off too. Might be out."

"I don't see any cranial damage," reported the other (a much younger counterpart to his superior) aloud before looking over her side where the pooling of blood had pretty much turned to a river of reddened icicles within the snow. It somehow looked disturbingly beautiful, he thought to himself. "I've got a laceration on her side there. I need you to apply pressure on it, she's lost a lot of blood. Ma'am," he addressed Max as she'd appeared to be falling to sleep, her confounded and weak gaze shifting over to him. "Ma'am we're going to take care of you. You're going to be alright." Damn straight she'd better be, Batman thought to himself as a second police vehicle pulled up and Commissioner Barbara Gordon stepped out of it with a disgusted gaze. The Commissioner motioned for the Bat and he grudgingly headed atop the ditch to stand before her emotionlessly. The other attending officers gave them space. It had become an unspoken rule: whenever the Commissioner and the Bat were together, whatever they said was between them. Questioning that was as pointless as it was unbeneficial.

"So," Barbara started, watching the flurry of activity beneath them with a look that shifted to concern. "I see you found her."

Batman fidgeted uncomfortably at her implication: not sure whether it sounded as if she were judging him, or if the future Dark Knight was only pushing his own guilt onto her words. "Yeah. But I fucked up, Commish."

Gordon raised a brow in her signature glance that demanded an explanation to such a statement. How could he have messed anything up? The girl was alive and heading to get the proper treatment she needed for her horrific wounds. "Look kid, with all the craziness going on out here tonight it's not your fault-."

"She was dead," Batman cut off whatever positive bull Gordon was about to give him loud enough for everyone to hear, causing the EMT's to start moving around like madmen. Deceased? That made everything a little more complex. They had to get this girl to a hospital immediately. Barbara's expression betrayed the shock she felt, which only made him feel like an even bigger piece of shit. "I got here, but it was over. She was gone, Barb," he whispered low, feeling the disbelief of that not so distant memory washing over the hero all over again. "Max was dead, and it's all because I couldn't find her in time." The Bat's countenance seemed to shrink with shame.

Didn't she and Bruce know that feeling of guilt well enough by now? Years upon years of it weighing them down until they'd become who they currently were. Sometimes Barbara wondered if she would've changed a single thing about what had been done back then…But somehow the answer always came back the same. The shock fled from the once Batgirl as her face returned to its stony reserve. "But she's alive _now_. And I'm assuming you have something to do with that." Batman didn't answer her and Gordon sighed, placing her hands in her jacket pockets. "Don't beat yourself, kid. She's here now. Isn't that what's most important?"

Batman scowled. He disdained that condescending tone that she and Wayne could so easily use on people. "What's most important is if you pick up the assholes who did this to her!" he snapped.

But Barbara merely gave him a mischievous glint, not in the least bit bothered by his sharp retort. "Already done. That's what took me so long to get here. Thank your boss for relaying that info to me."

The younger Emergency Technician came from around the back of the truck where the stretcher was waiting atop the ditch and jogged over towards the two. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said apologetically with a worried expression as he hugged his body tight against the blistering cold wind. "But we could use some help."

"What do you need?" inquired the Bat, completely wiping Barbara from his mind with the possibility that Max needed him and ready to assist any way that he could.

The EMT pointed toward the ditch in indication and explained through a tight frown, "We got to get her out of there. She's practically frozen to death-," Batman growled at that expression given the previous situation, "-but there's a slight problem: the ditch is too deep and narrow to get the stretcher down there, which means we'd have to carry her up…but with her leg like it is-."

The Caped Crusader of the future narrowed his eyes but nodded in understanding. "I'll bring her up. Just be ready to take her to the hospital." Without another word Batman made his way down into the ditch as the other technician moved aside and climbed out. Batman looked down at Max and felt his heart quake. God she looked so tired and weak. "Max?" he whispered. Her blank eyes seemed to come to life at the sound of his voice and she stared right at him, almost through him. Terry swallowed. "Max, I'm going to get you out of this. Okay?" The girl merely nodded and Batman gingerly wrapped his arms around her, never taking his gaze from hers to watch for any signs of pain, and pulled the best friend close. He gasped to himself at not being able to tell the difference between the snow and her ice cold body. Max's shaky arms loosely clung around his shoulders as her savior braced himself against the grounding beneath them. He was pretty positive that she was numb from the cold and wouldn't feel anything, but the thought of having to move Gibson in her condition still made the teen uncomfortable. He hoped to God that she wouldn't feel this. Slowly, carefully, he rose upright and gripped the girl tighter as her weight began to shift under the gravity. Max's fingers dug into his shoulders and she winced – feeling no pain exactly, but a disconcerting pull on her left leg as they finally came completely upright. "Just hold on," Batman comforted the pink haired beauty as her body tensed against him. The jets on the bottom of his boots ignited and before they knew it, the two were airborne. What was only a couple seconds of flight out of the ditch onto higher ground felt like an eternity. Gibson thought she felt tired being down in the ditch waiting for rescue to come, yet somehow now with help _here_ her level of exhaustion was stifling. Still…

Feeling his warm arms about her tightly in protection and assurance of that protection was comforting, soothing even. For the first time since her fall, Max felt like she would make it beyond this – the hell was finally over… "Ter…ry…" the girl managed to hiss out as the two landed, causing McGinnis to give her an appalled and heartbreaking look. He stood there, holding her up in his arms as she stared at him, and he her. The way she said his name – it seemed filled with hope, joy; not the anger or unforgiveness or sense of betrayal that he'd expected she would have for him. Had he not allowed this to happen? Had he not flown right over her and left her to die? Had he not failed to find her sooner? How could she-?

"Get her on the stretcher," ordered the senior EMT as he reached forward and proceeded to pull Max out of the Bat's arms impatiently. However, he was met with a slew of curses and growls that made him back off immediately. Giving the technician a hard scowl, McGinnis cautiously laid his best friend on the stretcher, noting her squeezing his shoulders again and wincing in discomfort before grabbing his hand once securely laid to rest as the EMTs took over and began strapping her in and radioing the nearest hospital of their approach.

"I'll see you," Batman hinted to her softly as the stretcher wheeled towards the back of the ambulance.

Max's weary eyes seemed nervous at the sudden swift movements. "Ter," she stopped herself. "Bat…man?"

"It's going to be okay," he answered her guiltily as their hands were forced apart and her stretcher raised up swiftly into the blinding lighted rear of the emergency vehicle.

Of course he couldn't ride with her, but somehow she still felt a surge of panic at being separated from her best friend and she sat up a little only to feel hands try to force her back down. " !"

Watching her struggle nearly killed him. "Max-."

"BATMAN?!" The ambulance doors slammed shut and the driver ran around front, hopping inside and turning on the siren once more before speeding off down the snow covered road; disappearing when they turned into an alley that led to the main road, leaving the Bat and the Commissioner behind.

Barbara watched the young hero before turning and climbing down into her vehicle. "Do whatever you gotta do. We've got this." Whatever she was referring to was left to be seen, only because Gordon was obviously offering him a choice; and whatever he chose, she and her men would be able to handle Gotham; with or without his help. She closed the car door and drove off further down the road with the second police vehicle following suit beyond where the ambulance had turned off as the vigilante stood there – the image of Max's frightful face, the sound of her desperate voice, filled his thoughts. She was going to be okay...

"Breathe, McGinnis," the teen told himself, trying to come up with the right decision on what to do. "Breathe."

" _Terry,"_ came the old man's voice over the comlink. _"You know what you've got to do. You know what's most important right now. So just do it."_

McGinnis clenched his fist. Why did such a simple choice have to become so complex? What was most important? His friendship with Max even though he knew she was in good hands now? Or his duty to Gotham City – to prevent anyone else from experiencing something like this again because of maniacs?

Just breathe, McGinnis – he told himself. And please don't stop breathing…Max…

 _To Be Continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

_Just something real quick I threw together. Please excuse any typos or ish. I will try to make the next chapters better, this chapter just sucked to kinda put down so I felt like breezing through it to get it over with. Next story update will be either The Enemy's Heart or The Tutor. Until next time_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Five**

 _The E.R. (part one)_

"You're going to be alright," spoke the young EMT with a calming voice as he took the victim's vitals. The acceleration of the ambulance through the slick roads could physically be felt as the siren cut through the night sky. Checking his instruments, the technician frowned before reaching back and knocking on the panel separating them from the driver; an indication to pick up the pace. Almost immediately the engine roared. "Hang in there with me," he told the greyish colored female, brushing the pink frost covered locks from her face. Somehow, at the brink of death, she was eerily beautiful. The Technician shook his head – this was the last time he did a 12 hour shift.

Now subjected to the warmer environment of the ambulance, Max Gibson's body became racked with sharp, stabbing discomfort along her spine, and seizure-like chills that kept the EMT struggling to keep the girl contained. A soft moan filled the back of the ambulance as the technician worked to comfort her until they reached the hospital. It was good she was starting to come back, but the problem was that eventually she'd start becoming more aware – particularly of her injuries. Though he'd seen a lot of things in his short tenure with Gotham's emergency response department, witnessing her agony was not something he wanted to be around for. "Just a little bit longer, okay? Hey!" The girl's eyes flittered open slowly at his hard call and met him. The EMT heaved in relief; her responsiveness had slowed and it concerned him. "There ya go, beautiful."

Max smirked weakly and exhaled, looking up at the ambulance roof to try and take her exhausted mind off of everything. A nearly impossible task. Despite heading to treatment, despite no longer being stuck in an icy ditch of death, even now Max found a sensation of fright lingering over her. Though the reason behind said fear remained unknown at the moment, still she didn't like being alone – or more so, being without a familiar presence. As pissed off as the teen might have been with her mother (quite frankly, she still pretty was), what Max wouldn't give to have that maternal affection right now. Internally the girl winced – or at the very least, something a little more _realistic_ : like her home girl Chelsea for example, or hell even perverted Nelson! Or…Ter-.

The ambulance came to an abrupt halt, startling its inhabitant briefly as everything suddenly began to swarm around her. In a flash the doors opened and the older EMT had the stretcher instantly out of the vehicle. "Alright, I got her," he stated to the other. The freezing air rocked the girl's frame as she groaned loudly and flinched before a blanket was tossed over her as a result. Just like that, the full moon illuminating the darkened sky she'd come to know so well vanished beneath the inside of Gotham University Hospital's E.R. After raising her head briefly, however, the young girl's heart fell into her stomach…a _crowded_ Gotham University Hospital E.R. The emergency techs also felt their charge's wariness because the senior frowned and approached a nurse rummaging through paperwork at the operation's desk. "We need a room."

"Take a number," the nurse quickly snapped before quickly realizing how inappropriate that was and looked away from the disarrayed desk to them apologetically. "What you got?" she tried again, hoping it was something minor they could shift the patient into another department for.

"Broken leg, potential ankle dislocation – same leg – stab wound, significant blood loss. No visible cranial injuries, indications of hypothermia, and reported to have flat lined before our arrival."

Damnit, the nurse thought – so much for hoping for simplicity. Definite problem. Looking around the E.R. she began assessing, trying to figure out how to fit this newest arrival into the slew of chaos. "Ok," she said, taking the patient's informative chart from the EMT and swiftly handing it to the passing head nurse – an angry looking older woman with a permanent frown from all the stress of tonight plastered on her wrinkled face. Halting from wherever she was originally going, the woman scanned over the papers, gave Max an eye (a look the EMTs could only define as: stoically compassionate), and then ordered while pointing towards a rear hall within the E.R., "Put her against the wall there."

"The wall?" declared the young EMT hotly in disbelief as a pair of hospital staff took hold of the stretcher and began to move the patient – obviously an unappreciated gestured as far as the EMT was concerned. The technician's counterpart placed a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him, but to no avail. He jogged after them, his partner following silently. "You've got to be kidding me! This girl was stuck in a ditch for hours with a broken leg, stabbed by Jokerz, and would be dead if Batman hadn't resuscitated her," the man argued. "She needs _immediate_ treatment!"

"Look!" growled the head nurse as she spun and jammed a finger against the man's chest with enough force it not only caught him off guard, but he winced; her patience was dangerously depleted and the woman had no interest in wasting time arguing with some know-it-all punk when she had an entire emergency room to run. "I don't know if you've heard," the grown woman snapped, "but tonight was a city-wide Jokerz-Fest! You've got a problem? Get over it – every hospital in Gotham is slammed. The patient's here: let us do our jobs and you go do yours!" Without another word she brushes past the technician and heads into a room where loud technological squealing was emanating from with a few other staff members and a doctor.

The EMT snorts irritatingly. Well that was definitely far more attitude than he wanted to hear; though it was justified. The head nurse had been valid in her frustrations, and deep down he knew that even if he didn't want to admit it. The big picture was right here in front of them – and it was fucked. What other choice was there? At this point there was literally nothing any of them could do to make this outcome any different. Damn the Jokerz. Damn those doped up cowardly clowns to the hottest pit in hell. With no other option in the matter the EMT faces the young woman and pitifully shrugs in defeat, then extends a hand and rubs the girl's shoulder comfortingly. "Everything is going to be okay," he consoled. "You're one tough kid."

Gibson thought on that momentarily – somehow "tough" wasn't the word she'd have used to describe herself given the parameters. In fact, it wasn't until _this_ that she got to see just how truly weak she was; it was humbling _and_ disconcerting. "Thank…you," Max responded hoarsely, grinning up at the two before they took off with a wave goodbye to get back to saving more lives.

And now, it was just her…again. As the chaotic bustle of the emergency room rushed around the teen, Max once more felt uneasiness creep upon her. Her brown eyes darted around the room, taking in the countless injured bodies brought here in the aftermath of the Jokerz "fun"…while still searching for something familiar of her own – something that would make her feel… _safer_. For the first time, Maxine Gibson didn't like being alone. She watched as countless family and friends of the victims came to the side of their injured loved ones. It seemed like everyone had someone here…everyone but here. It was as if the activity of the E.R. flowed onwards in slow blurs of movement without knowledge of the girl's presence while she alone laid on the stretched perfectly clear to only herself…A nurse stopped by eventually and placed a cold compress on Gibson's left ankle before disappearing altogether. Bundled under her cooling blanket, Max found herself feeling more abandoned here in a building filled with certified medical staff obligated to help her, than she had in that Godforsaken ditch.

Without companionship her mind raced, unwillingly reliving every single detail of this horrific day; from the argument with her mother, to the Jokerz tormenting her, to the only source of rescue unknowingly leaving her behind in the dark...to her very life coming to an end…and to that life being restored to find the most important person in her life right there urging her back. The Hill High top student debated the odds of something insane like this actually happening to her; and wondered just how the hell Gotham came up with this kind of sick punishment. So many people she might have never seen again – even the ones Max once thought she would be okay living without, or would be okay living without _her_. It wasn't until she'd faced death that Maxine knew what it was to appreciate even the smallest the bonds life had given her. The surge of emotion at the remembrance of _his_ tears concerning the girl's demise, _his_ joy at seeing her alive and feeling the warmth of his kisses of relief, made Max's eyes open to just how important she was to those closest to her after all. A far cry from the belief of inadequacy she'd come to accept previously while surrounded by snow and ice. Because of him-. She sighed. Batman's touch had been so… _warm_ – a warmth Max never really noticed until she'd succumb to the cold. That eased the girl – and worried her.

A while later, after a woman came by obtaining Max's identification and insurance information, a dull stab of pain radiated in the left ankle hidden beneath the heated blankets. Odd – she never noticed that before. It hit again, stronger this time and traveling up the leg, and Max narrowed her eyes in concern; not liking this feeling. Gibson fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the blankets and felt her heart pace quicken a bit at the sensation. How long had it been since she was placed here? She remembered reading the time at the operation's station-. Max looked up at a clock against the wall ahead and felt her lungs start to burn before realizing she'd been holding her breath in astonishment: according to the time, she'd been in this hall, without further analysis by staff, for nearly an hour. Why hadn't someone come to help her? Someone should have been here to help her by _now_! Perhaps it was out of panic the genius was starting to feel but, by now the pain had become more noticeable and she found herself twisting her upper torso in discomfort, squeezing the fabric of the blankets between her nails. Once the teen tried to move her ankle, but nothing happened – it was almost like it didn't even exist! Shakily, Max lifted the blankets before throwing them back down in horror at the sight before her. Oh God, she'd never walk again! A scream urged to be set free.

Just when she thought she'd go mad in fear at the destruction brought upon her body, a voice cried out in the distance, "MAX!" Gibson turned her head to the side and could not hide her hurt and shock. Standing at the entrance doors of the E.R. on the other side of the room was Dana, Chelsea, and Nash – and their eyes were stuck on her…and those eyes were filled with an emotion that Max was sure she never wanted to see again. The three teens flew across the E.R., weaving between stretchers and nurses to get to the girl they all loved desperately. Chelsea reached her first – the blonde nearly threw her petite frame onto the stretcher with Gibson as Cunningham clung her arms tight about her best friend's shoulders and neck. "Max! MAX! OH MY GOD, MAX!" Max could feel the hot teardrops making their way down her neck as Chelsea pulled back and stared into the academic head of Hill High's eyes. "You BITCH! Do you have the slightest idea how worried I've been?" Chelsea didn't give Gibson a chance to answer, only pulled her tight into another hug and cried some more.

Dana and Nash were next, practically having to physically remove their blonde counterpart away from the stretcher. Dana held Max's hand to her cheek and sniffled. "I'm so glad you're ok, Max! We had Gotham P.D. practically tearing the city apart looking for you. We heard you scream and…and-!" Dana started crying again and Chelsea pulled Tan close.

Max found some unbelievable strength to chuckle as she touched Dana's chin. "It's…okay…" Gibson looked to Nelson expecting to find the boy grinning in relief that she was okay, or maybe hear the jock crack some kind of sex joke to lighten the mood. Instead, what she came to see was a somber expression that claimed her usually so upbeat friend – filled with sadness, worry, fear…blame. "Nelson," she whispered. He continued to stare at her, avoiding direct eye contact, even after she'd taken his hand into her own in an attempt to pull him back out of the darkness his mind was taking him. At the sound of his name, Nash's grip around her fingertips tightened. To think he may have never heard that voice again…He opened his mouth to speak – Max telling what the words would be – but Gibson attempted to cut him off…only… "Nels-uuuuhhhaah!"

An involuntary shiver and pain ripped through the African American beauty's frame, causing Max to arch beneath the blankets with a gasp as she squeezed the jock's hand tightly, thrust her head back with closed eyes and grit exposed teeth 'til the chill ceased. At that moment Nelson's resolve snapped – sorrow for what could have been the end of his friend transformed into rage as the sports junkie suddenly thrust his free fist forward and slammed it into the wall with enough force that the room seemed to freeze. Though his eyes burned, Nash refused to shed tears – maybe out of pride, or out of a desperate attempt to be strong for her – but he was obviously angered by what this night had come to. "BASTARD!" Nelson snarled before turning his green eyes back to Max though they'd hardly softened. The group had heard from Commissioner Gordon where Max had been taken, and only through some forceful begging were they able to learn the extent of her injuries. With the blankets shielding her, it kind of helped keep the group calm – made this event not seem quite as…devastating. And for that, they were grateful. This could have been so much worse – especially with the additional clown component. But…

Nelson pulled Max's hand to his face, using her knuckles to wipe away the tears that threatened to overrun their banks while secretly showing the girl just how much she meant to him. Seeing her here so pale and weak – witnessing the pain of the cold inside of her body and getting a glimpse of any pain first hand made this nearly unbearable. Nelson Nash blamed himself for not being able to find her himself – even for not managing to convince the girl to just let him drive her to Metropolis so she wouldn't have to talk with her mother and allow any of this to happen in the first place; the Jokerz too, for not only leaving the teen to die in a ditch, but stabbing her to boot. But there might have been another way to have avoided this mess altogether. _That's_ what pissed the jock off the most. Nelson narrowed his eyes and exhaled deeply to cool his nerves. Fact of the matter was this: Nelson may have beaten himself up, and despised the Jokerz for what they did – but the Jokerz wasn't the only one he blamed for this.

Dana pat Nelson on the back but gave Max a worried look. "Max? What's wrong?"

Gibson squeezed Nash's hand tighter and squirmed on the stretcher once again – hiding the discomfort was becoming harder to do. "Hurts…" she hissed out. More time had passed without any indication of assistance from the hospital staff, and as Max's discomfort grew, Chelsea immediately flagged down a nurse to demand why her best girlfriend hadn't been treated yet and to enunciate the amount of pain the girl was currently in. The nurse explained that they were waiting on a room to open up, but mainly the staff was trying to find a doctor to sign off on pain medication. With the E.R. being so full resources were scarce and the medical staff weren't trying to be negligent – they were merely struggling to maintain control. Even doctors from the various departments of the hospital floors had to be consulted because there simply weren't enough emergency specialists on the floor. The grip of things was eluding them, still, the nurse did his best to ensure the group that it wouldn't be much longer a wait for their friend before dashing off somewhere down the hall where someone was screaming. About an additional half-hour passed before a nearby room had finally been cleared for use and staff pushed the stretcher inside – Max's mother and sister arrived on the scene immediately at a loss of words before rushing to her emotional aid.

By then the pain had become so unbearable, that when the nurse placed an empty IV into Max's arm, the girl broke out into tears; it was as if the minor additional pain of the needle breaking through her skin was the final straw to break the camel's back in regards to her agony. The room was stuffed to the brim, and the air became unbearably thick as Gibson's sobbing cries filled it…and all anyone could do to help her was hold her hand and tell her it would be okay – meaningless actions when compared to the physical anguish that, in that moment, made Maxine Gibson wish she'd simply stayed dead inside the ditch. "It hurts," Max whimpered out repeatedly every time comforting words were spoken. Right now she wished she were dead, or at the very least? She wished Terry was here with her…

* * *

From the upper levels of a building across the street, white eyes watched invisibly through the window. He'd followed her to the hospital before losing sight of her for nearly two hours before finally catching a glimpse of his best friend once again as she was rolled into a small room. The others were with her, and that should have been enough to console him – but Batman uncomfortably found instead that he _wasn't_ convinced; he didn't feel calm about this at all – in fact, it made him more worried. The Dark Knight heard his best friend's painful cries through the suit's advanced audio system and felt nothing but guilt and shame. Thunder rolled about the night sky in the distance as his cell rung but the neo-Gotham hero ignored it, already knowing who was calling with a demand as to his whereabouts.

" _You need to make your choice, McGinnis,"_ came an elderly voice inside of his head.

"What do you think I'm doing out here?" the teen replied back with a bit more hostility than he originally intended, glaring angrily inside the hospital window as Max's mother caressed her daughter's pink hair as finally (three hours later) a doctor stepped inside the room and a nurse injected something into the IV. Max's tears immediately slowed and Chelsea kissed her forehead.

" _I think you're stalling,"_ retorted Bruce Wayne through narrowed brows and interlocked fingers as he stared at the image feed of Terry's visual on the large monitor in the comforting darkness of the cave. The sound of sirens and distant flashes of light erupted from Batman's peripheral, causing the teen's attention to shift away from the hospital and to the streets below. _"Looks like you're at a crossroads…"_ Wayne all-knowingly hypothesized, earning himself a growl of irritation from his predecessor.

How he hated when Bruce could see things so clearly. "Max is going to be okay," the young hero tried to convince himself more than his boss.

" _Of course, eventually. But will you?"_ That's not the question Batman wanted to hear right now, much less face to comprehend an answer. Without a response to the underlying riddles Bruce so easily gave, Batman gave a long exhale before turning off the camouflage, spreading his winged arms and falling forward, dropping from his perch. With an ignition of the jets beneath his boots, Batman veered off in the direction of the sirens – away from the hospital, and away from Max. He knew she would be fine, it was the only realization that kept him going about his duties right now…though it didn't shake the guilt in doing so.

 _To Be Continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey all, it's been a minute. Okay, here is the newest chapter. Now virtually everything here is spot on except for a few minor details such as family drama and shiz. my family was real supportive and no one was trying to slap each other lol. Finally T2Angel can stop fussing at me for not uploading! Until next time._ __

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Six**

 _The E.R. (part two)_

The remaining time at Gotham University hospital had been rather smooth. Night turned into early morning, and finally the busyness of the Emergency Room slowed some, leaving the overworked staff with brief flitters of peace. Finally, the once unbearable moans of agony from the Jokerz countless victims had (though not entirely silenced) dulled. The same could even be said for the wearied and traumatized Maxine. She'd suffered for three hours with her injuries before medication been prescribed; but now was eased under medicinal influence and rested with minimal discomfort. Her friends and family seemed to fill the room to its brim; everyone naturally expected the hospital staff to tell them to depart into waiting rooms – but given the teen's injuries and story behind them (as well as her prolonged anguish under the E.R.'s care) no one had the heart to say anything. Max's mom Loretta Gibson had been on the phone periodically, informing any and every one possible about her youngest daughter's plight. Her eldest sister Sasha sat diligently beside Max's bed, watching the sibling like a hawk for any slightest indication she was in pain once again. Dana, Chelsea and Nelson pressed against a wall – tired, but not once complaining. After all, what did they really have to complain about in comparison to what their friend had endured? Absolutely nothing.

Not long after she'd stabilized, staff came and took Max for an X-Ray to check the extent of her injuries – an event the girl found uncomfortable and exhausting. Even with the pain killer running through her bloodstream, Gibson felt the unnatural pull of flesh on her leg going in a direction it shouldn't have – causing the female to wince and squeal lightly. By the time she'd returned Max was starving, yet the nurses were adamant in denying the teen food until they knew what was going to be done.

Somewhat solemnly, time continued to pass while no more nurses came to visit the patient, and after Max breaking down the story for curious ears, Chelsea turned on the small hovering television to a kids' channel where "The Flintstones" was having a late night marathon. Even though Max giggled as Bam Bam pummeled a pair of Bedrock thieves with his mighty club, Loretta tried to argue her daughter was too old for such childish programs. In her mind Max was destined for brilliance – watching such foolhardy shenanigans was obviously beneath them. Chelsea immediately shut the older woman down through furrowed brows with, "I know Max pretty well, and she would prefer to watch a good cartoon as opposed to the crap that plays now." With that, Cunningham tucked the remote away under Max's pillow where her mother wouldn't dare reach to get it. From that moment on, it was plain to see Loretta and Chelsea had no fondness for one another. Not another word was spoken and mild tension hung in the air.

"Where's Terry?" Max murmured as she stirred from a light nap. The room was darkened but held a comforting glow from the lamp behind her headboard. All eyes immediately turned from The Flintstones marathon (surprisingly, the inhabitants had become unusually focused on the show) and the small room came to sudden life with movement. A warm hand touched her forehead and Max's brown eyes rested on Chelsea – who had managed to squeeze her way into the bed on Max's right side. So that's why she felt so comfortable. Max sighed and Chelsea rubbed her friend's pink scalp comfortingly. Max nearly purred.

"We tried calling, but can't reach him," the blonde answered in a soft tone. "But don't worry honey, I'm sure he'll be on his way." At least that's what she was trying to convince herself. Terry was always wherever Max needed him to be – though sometimes later than desired – so the popularity queen hoped this time wouldn't be any different. If McGinnis didn't show up it had to be because he was dead; and if he wasn't, he _would be_.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the room sympathized. Loretta snorted in disgust at even the thought of that riff raff daring to show his useless face. If he couldn't come earlier, he didn't _need_ to come now. After all, the woman was already positive the boy was still a no good troublemaker. Max didn't need his kind of influence in her life anyway. "Like coming is going to do him any good!" Dana gave the mother a hard look but she continued, "That delinquent! I told you he was no good Maxine. Here you are, on the brink of death, and he hasn't even bothered to call. And you call that a best friend?" Brink of death? Everybody visibly stiffened at that analogy and the air got even heavier.

Nelson thrust his jaw upward with a scowl. "I second that."

Dana's icy gaze tossed in the sports junkie's direction. "Don't be a dreg, Nash," Tan warned the jock. Things had been going just fine and now all of a sudden everybody wanted to go up in arms. Clearly now wasn't the time. Max may have been numbed to the physical pain, but she wasn't numb to the irritation of anyone talking against her best friend. Dana narrowed her eye lids and came to stand on Max's left as she took the genius teen's hand to calm the girl who was starting to tremble. "That's not true, ma'am," Tan disputed. "Terry is the one who started looking for Max first! He's the one who got us to contact Commissioner Gordon. He's-."

Oh slag the pleasantries! "Basically-," snapped Chelsea after sitting up in the bed and giving the mother a look of pure hate – tired of the old woman's crooked, ignorant assumptions, and lack of compassion towards her daughter's plight by starting this bunch of horse shit, "-if it weren't for Terry there wouldn't have been such a big search effort to find Max. She might still be in that ditch – which means she'd be dead right now. Whatever issue you have with Terry, leave it at the door. Regardless of what you think that lug head loves Max. They're best friends for a reason. Show a little gratitude."

As badly as Loretta wanted to reach across the bed and snatch the blonde bimbo up like a prepubescent ragdoll that's probably been stretched far too wide open with excessive amounts of "playtime", the mother merely smirked and rolled her eyes in astonished disbelief before stating, "You sure know how to pick 'em Maxine."

Now Chelsea may have been a lot of things – wild, brash, moody, sassy, and a classy amount of fast – but she was not the type of girl that got pushed over; especially not when some dreg senior citizen bitch was obviously trying to call her out. And ESPECIALLY when said dreg senior citizen bitch was not only a foul mother, but (when it all came down to it) was the reason Max was jacked in the first place. Chelsea didn't care how arthritic the hag might be, the teen had officially lost all the patience she'd been trying to maintain for this woman since she'd arrived. "Excuse you?" shrieked Cunningham. The blonde beauty swung her legs over the side of the bed and commenced to head to confront Max's pitiful excuse of a mother; Sasha rose from her chair in her mother's defense, which only ticked Chelsea off even more. She'd take both their old asses! Dana stepped between the bed and Max's sister and a stare down ensued. Before things could get out of hand, thankfully Nelson caught Chelsea in his arms before she could even round the stretcher and escalate the mess any further.

Even in near death she couldn't catch a single break! Max sighed and closed her eyes, clenching fists into the sheets groggily. She was getting exceedingly tired of this. It was bad enough all the crap the girl had been forced to deal with today, bad enough that she felt an overwhelming bout of uncertainty clinging to her subconscious – but now everyone had the sudden urge to brawl out their differences? They didn't even know the extent of her injuries yet and already all anybody could think about was placing blame! Even when she was hurt there was no peace. "Shut up!" she groaned, raising a hand and placing it on top of her forehead with exasperation as she felt her mind whirl under the stress. "I had more peace with the damn Jokerz!" That notion made calmed the room some out of guilt. "Just let it go, mom. You're being selfish…"

Max's mother raised to her feet with bafflement and bristling anger, ignoring Chelsea's smug and victorious smirk. "Selfish? If we were being selfish we would have left hours ago! That McGinnis boy isn't worth the time. We have your best intentions at heart dear."

Oh, so now she had Max's best interest at heart? Where was all this caring while Max virtually raised herself in that apartment all alone? "Do you?" argued the pink haired teen as she directed all focus onto her mother with a frown. "I'm the one in this hospital bed. And I wouldn't be if-." Max took a deep breath as her mother stiffened. "Terry has always been there for me. ALWAYS. And if he isn't here now there must be a reason, a legitimate reason. I don't see _dad_ here – complain about him."

"Max-!"growled out the older black woman.

"I trust Ter, mother. Why isn't that ever enough for you?!"

"BECAUSE HE'S TRASH!"

"Ahem," came a voice from the doorway. The group looked to find the head nurse standing there with a small tray in hand and a deepened scowl of agitation. The tray had two small cups on it, and what looked like to be the packaging for a spoon. "The doctor is reviewing your X-Rays, Miss Gibson. He'll be in in a few minutes to tell you what he's found. It's been nearly six hours since you've arrived and we've got permission to give you a little something: Jell-O and water. It's the most we can do right now."

An assortment of awkward thank you's answered the nurse from the group, but she continued standing in the doorway for a few more seconds before adding with a low warning, "Might I remind you: this is a hospital, ladies and gentleman. If there's any problems I insist you take it outside." She walked in the room as it fell silent and helped Max sit up before moving the tray closer so she could access the light meal carefully without involuntarily making a mess.

Max chewed her lip. She really wasn't a Jell-O fan but hunger overrides all discrimination. Right now, that Jell-O was a prime rib dinner from a soul food restaurant. But there was still an underlying concern. "Will I have surgery?" Gibson asked with a hint of worry in her voice. That was the only reason the brilliant Hill High student could think of as to why the hospital had denied her food, and was now providing only a small amount of something as nourishment. Max had never had surgery before, and as tough as the girl had constantly proven herself to be, she couldn't shake the thought of something going wrong on the table. The girl had almost died once already…

Sensing the patient's discomfort, the head nurse pat her hand in a reassuring gesture and offered the first real sincere smile that she'd probably shown all night. "We're not sure yet, but you're in good hands. In the meantime, eat. And if anyone gives you any trouble, hit the buzzer and we'll take care of it."

Chelsea murmured, "Hit the buzzer, Max."

The nurse turned and headed out the room after shooting Mrs. Gibson a warning glare. She stopped just outside the door and said to someone without bothering to completely hide her annoyance, "You better head in, before I decide to send everyone home."

Max had barely gotten the top of her cherry flavored Jell-O off when a shadow came around the hinge and momentarily hovered at the entrance. Max dropped her spoon on the table and took in a sharp intake of breath as her eyes began to burn and so many emotions swept through her soul. There he stood, hands in his pockets with a head lowered in shame. But his blue eyes locked on her, and she could see him trembling a little – though from excitement or nervousness, she was not sure of. Either way it didn't matter. He was finally here. "Terry…" the girl whimpered, making a sad attempt to sit up further. If her leg weren't busted she'd dash over into his arms. There was so much more she wanted to say – to thank him for saving her life – but of course she couldn't…not with present company. It had never been so difficult to keep his secret as it was right now in her immense gratitude and pleasure of seeing him.

Nelson grunted and Dana exhaled in relief, while Loretta and Sasha merely exchanged disapproving glances. Victorious yet again, Chelsea was right at the door to greet the late new addition with folded arms and an angered smile. "It's about damn time you showed up. Do you know how many times I called you? You'd better have a damn good excuse for not bringing your ass here sooner, McGinnis!"

Terry gave Max a sheepish look before turning back to Chelsea. If he didn't get her off his back then life as he knew it would end! There was no way Cunningham would let him stay. "Yeah," he answered, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. "I was still out searching. I hadn't gotten the news until much later. Sorry I missed your calls, my phone died. I had went back to Max's apartment to see if I could catch her mom or something when I ran into Gordon. She told me what was up and I came as soon as I could after running back by my house to check on mom and Matt."

Chelsea gave the answer some thought for a moment but finally nodded, accepting his reason. "Fine." With a reach, Cunningham grabbed McGinnis's ear and dragged his hissing frame towards the foot of the bed and then got hold of Nelson and Dana's arms and shoved them towards the door. "I think Max could use a break from us. C'mon, let's go pick up some grub." She glanced over her shoulder at Max's family as indication for them to follow suit. Reluctantly, Loretta and Sasha obliged and exited the room, assuring Max they'd be back soon. Secretly Max hoped otherwise.

Once the room had noisily emptied out, Terry rounded the bed at a slow crawl, but refused to make direct eye contact with her, only the blanket…only where her leg should have been. "I'm glad you're okay," he managed to whisper. There was a hidden meaning in his voice and Max cocked her head weakly in an attempt to decipher it.

"I wouldn't have been if it weren't for you," responded Max honestly with just as much softness in her voice. She reached out and touched the edge of his much too thin for this weather jacket and gently tugged – urging him without words to look at her. But he wouldn't, and it hurt her more than it probably should have.

"What's the damage?" he asked.

Max bit her lip. "According to the doctor? We're not sure yet."

Not sure yet? That was completely unacceptable! Terry raised a brow in disbelief. "What do you mean? You've been here for hours-."

"It took me hours just to get this damn I.V." returned Gibson with a snarl. "The Jokerz really wasted Gotham. I'm lucky they even had a corner for me here. I'm waiting for the results." McGinnis scowled a little and Max looked to her leg concealed by the blanket as if caught in a stupor of memory. "But I know, Terry," she continues. "I know I broke my leg. They gave me a cold compress for my ankle because at first glance it looked sprained, but I _know_ my leg is broke. I saw the bone poking through the skin. My ankle is dislocated. I'm sure of it…They're going to have to realign it." Max's grip on his jacket tightened and shakiness filled her voice as she openly admitted, "I'm scared, Ter. It's going to hurt."

His entire soul completely shattered to its very core; right at that moment he wanted to fly off into the night sky and never return. Max – tough, sassy, and ever brave Max – was afraid…and deep down he knew there was nothing he could do to possibly console her. Terrence McGinnis stood at the bedside in silence and said nothing. It was almost like he wasn't even there, and though he knew that that must have been killing his best friend on the inside, McGinnis had no other answer. For hours he'd delayed coming to the hospital. The Jokerz initiations had pretty much slagged all of Gotham, and as Batman it was his responsibility to put an end to the mayhem. Yet, at the end of the day it was only an excuse. In his rage at what the Jokerz had done to her, at the remembrance of her fear, pain, and even death, Batman had not only put an end to the clown gangs mischief, but had probably avenged Max ten times over. Bruce of course disapproved of his course of action, but there was nothing the old man could say or do to stop Terry…especially when he himself didn't entirely blame the protégé for going overboard.

Even still, when the clowns had been dealt with, and when the streets had grown silent under the fresh snowfall, Batman sat on the roof of Wayne Powers watching over Gotham and becoming completely trapped within his thoughts and emotions. He could have been here hours ago – but how could he think about facing her? In Terry's mind, he was just as much at fault for this as Max's mother was. Guilt kept him from his best friend, and it crushed him to the core because once again she needed him, and once again he had failed her.

"Terry, please…" Max's voice cracked – unable to handle his silence any longer – and Terry met her gaze in an instant. Her face was composed, her eyes half-lidded from the medicine pumping through the I.V. in her arm – but she stared at him as if she could see the very thoughts plaguing his soul. He felt his knees starting to buckle.

"I'm sorry, Max," Terry whispered, taking her hand into his and brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "I should have been there sooner…"

But Max shook her head and smiled weakly. "Don't do that to yourself, Ter. You saved my life."

McGinnis scoffed. "I killed you," he murmured. It's what he really believed. Terry didn't know how to explain it, but this night had really done something to him. The sheer force of all its ups and downs had placed a heavy weight on the young vigilante. No one had a single idea of what he'd gone through: hearing his best friend be tortured by a group of troublemaking, psychotic clowns, listening to her scream of pain as she was stabbed; knowing that the girl who meant the whole world to him in more ways than he honestly could even comprehend was stranded somewhere in the middle of winter all alone without a single way of getting help while night fast approached. He'd spent _hours_ breaking the faces of countless Jokerz as he tore through every hideout to find her…only to turn up empty handed each time. And then he flew right over her to take up a lead without even noticing! The person he was tearing Gotham apart for! And then by the time the Bat finally found her, she was dead – not unconscious, DEAD! Not because of the Jokerz – but because at the end of it all Batman, Terry, couldn't get there in time. Max was dead because of him; and in his head all he heard chanting over and over again were three words: " _I killed Max_!"

But then she came back and now the guilt of watching her recover after having resuscitated her washed over the teen like a tsunami. Terry McGinnis got to see firsthand just how weak the strongest woman he ever knew could really be...all because he (her best friend, her partner, her own personal Dark Knight) couldn't protect her.

It's no wonder he hadn't gone to see her sooner and used Gotham as a shield. It wasn't because he was too busy saving the day, but because he had become afraid of what she must have thought of him for what the young man saw as abandoning her. His guilt had him terrified of the one thing in this world he could not live with - Max hating him...

Max raised a brow and opened her mouth to question the futuristic Dark Knight when an older man in a white lab coat and stethoscope walks into the room with three other nurses. He looked to the young woman and mentioned to one of the nurses, "She needs more pain killer." Max blinked, suddenly feeling an ache in her leg that she hadn't noticed before. "Miss Gibson," the doctor stated, glancing at her original guest party as they shimmied inside quietly, "I'm Dr. Jenkins. I know you've been through a lot so I'm just going to get to the point." He held up a set of X-Rays and placed them onto a nearby lighted wall and pointed. Terry winced at the images. "You left leg is broken. The bone snapped clear through. It's not a pleasant break however. Some of the bone appears to have splintered. Your left ankle is fractured, and severely dislocated. The muscle, tendons, everything there has been completely stretched out to the point that naturally it won't hold together on its own. You're going to need surgery to fix both injuries there. Unfortunately, we've been trying to contact an orthopedic surgeon and no one is available."

Loretta swallowed and peered around a nurse. "So what does that mean, exactly?"

Dr. Jenkins shrugged, "It means that she can't get repaired tonight. All surgeons we've got here right now handle life threatening procedures. She can't die from a leg break – not if we treat it properly, pre-op. What we're going to do, however, is realign that leg and ankle and splint it." Thankfully he didn't notice Terry's wince of pain as Max squeezed his hand. "Then we'll get you in contact with the surgeon and he'll patch her up within the next 48 hours."

"What about her other injuries?" came a deeper and more matured voice from the doorway. Everyone turned and gasped in surprise at the sight of Bruce Wayne himself leaning on his cane with Commissioner Barbara Gordon at his side. Terry was obviously taken aback by his boss's arrival – probably far more than anyone else in the room. Gordon too, when he thought about it. What was she doing here? What were they both doing here? Somehow he imagined a major chewing out for his behavior tonight – something probably along the lines of keeping closer to the "Batman Code".

Max's chest heaved. She never thought she'd be so happy to see the grouchy senior citizen and former Caped Crusader. "Hi Bruce."

"You're looking well, Max," teased the older man with a gruff, mischievous smirk. Loretta nearly fainted at the informalities of their conversation. Max knew Bruce Wayne…

Dr. Jenkins replied, "Her laceration had been a fairly nasty one, but everything looks fine now – as fine as it can be. She lost a lot of blood, and after tonight I don't think we have enough to really go in and treat her stab wound as well as I would like. For now, she's been treated with a medicinal component that will help her laceration to properly heal. If we're lucky, she won't need surgery there at all. But it will have to be monitored nonetheless and she will have to be on bedrest for a while. Until then, we're going to get her leg splinted and send her home."

No one liked the sound of that. Chelsea rolled her neck. "What do you mean home? She flat lined, got stabbed, ruined her left leg, probably had hypothermia, and you're sending her home?!"

Dr. Jenkins frowned. "If there are any changes she is welcome to come back, but as it is right now, she's in no life threatening condition. And since she can't see a surgeon immediately, we have no need to keep her. Now, there are way too many people in here, we're going to need room to splint her. Say what you have to, and then please leave." The nurses headed out of the room to get the necessary supplies for the splint as the others reluctantly prepared to head out. Max's mother offered the girl words of comfort and then left immediately out to avoid having to watch the gruesome procedure as the doctor pulled out a syringe and injected something into the I.V. More pain killer.

"Will it hurt?" Max whined, clenching her fist together as she felt warm liquid rush through her chest.

"We're going to get you good and high. Even if it does hurt, you shouldn't remember a thing," assured the doctor. "The nurses will take good care of you." And like that, he was out of the room. Chelsea, Dana, and Nelson hung around a little bit longer for encouragement until the nurses finally returned. They finally left out – occasionally looking back over their shoulders with worried expressions. Barbara Gordon waited with the others in the hall but Bruce pulled up a chair and sat with palms folded along the top of his cane as the staff moved about in preparation. Terry stood near Max's head, still holding her hand. One of the nurses suggested the two men leave, but Max refused it; and so did they.

"Get ready, Miss Gibson," stated a brunette nurse that had a warm smile. "We're going to have to pull on your leg first and line the snapped bone up before dealing with the ankle. You're going to feel some discomfort, but we'll try to make it as quick as possible. Just hang on, okay?"

Max nodded but Terry noticed her body immediately beginning to shake with fear. Instinctively, Max took some of her blanket, rolled it, and stuffed it between her teeth like she had seen on television. The nurses giggled at the dramatic motion, but a few moments later they would all be grateful for the gesture. Terry knelt low enough for Max to see him and caressed her head. "You've got this Max. You've got this," he cooed as her chest pumped up and down rapidly and a nervous groan erupted from her lips.

Bruce held out a hand and took Max's, his stoic gaze offering her a protective presence. "Squeeze it, if you have to," the old man stated simply.

"Ready?" asked the nurse. Max nodded as two sets of hands touched her leg, and the third gripped her ankle. "Okay, now!" Her leg, which had shortened because of the break, was pulled, stretched apart as hands were able to unravel and bring to life every muscle, tendon, and nerve all at once in a single instant. The hurt was excruciating. Somehow the pain medicine hadn't even kicked in yet. Max could feel them trying to align the bone, could hear the voices telling her everything would be okay. But it was faint. All there was, was the pain. All there was, was the fear. Max writhed in her bed and squeezed Bruce's hand as tears fell from her eyes. "Try and keep her still," ordered the nurse. Terry's hands were immediately pinning her to the mattress as she fought against him with yells and hollers. The group gathered outside shivered eerily at the sounds that met them. Passing hospital staff did their best to hide their discomfort, while whispering to one another how much the commended the now famous girl on her strength. Apparently they'd heard grown men sound much worse.

"Max," Terry tried to comfort her as his throat caught with cracks that nearly made the teen choke. Seeing her like this was becoming too much. He did this to her... "Max-!" He didn't get the chance to finish. He couldn't even think of the words to say. All he heard from that point on: was her screams.

 _To Be Continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Just a short little something I threw together. Kind of a filler chapter I guess. Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors and what not. Until next time MistFits!_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Seven**

 _Splinted_

When Terry finally walked outside of the hospital room, his light face seemed somewhat paled and drawn, and his blue eyes dulled. McGinnis leaned against the wall beside the door and released a long and very overdue exhale, allowing his back to slide down the length of the wall until the boy squatted on the floor. He had thought hearing Max scream when attacked by Curare was nerve-wracking, but this came a close second behind her phone call torment by the clowns. Bruce hobbled out of the room next, a humbled frown wearing upon the creases in the old man's forehead. Wayne looked down to his apprentice before gripping the cane tighter and staring ahead at nothing in particular – he was good at that: appearing detached. "The girl's got moxie…"

Terry wiped his forehead and exhaled once again. "She's got _something_."

"Hmmm," hummed the former Dark Knight in agreement. Silence passed between them as the nurses gingerly crept outside and began to disburse after receiving soft thanks from the two males. "Will she-?" began Bruce as the final nurse exited from the room.

"She'll be fine," answered the young and sweetheart brunette with a comforting smile. "We got the splint on, she's lined up. Now she just needs to rest for a while and then if we still don't hear anything from the surgeon or if nothing changes during monitoring, we'll send her home."

Terry linked his fingers together and pressed them to his lips. "Will she…walk again?" Somewhere in his voice, was a low crack – a fear…a hate. Bruce raised a brow, strategically pondering whether that hate was for the clowns who did this – or worse. Wayne knew all about that feeling of guilt, anger, and the drive for revenge. He knew how the world seemed to shift once you'd let it consume you. He also knew that it never helped.

The nurse's smile faded a little as she looked to the young man before she dropped to his eye level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She will. But it might take some time. Her ankle dislocation was worse than we thought." Terry nodded. He remembered the nurses getting the leg finally aligned and putting the ankle in place. Max's cries had subsided once they were "finished", but a couple seconds later she suddenly flinched and cried out, "IT'S OUT!" Sure enough everyone turned to her ankle and it had fallen right back out of place again. The nurse continued, "Her ankle is going to need surgery. We were hoping to just put it back in place and call it a day, but for it to respond like that only shows the damage is more severe than a simple dislocation. Everything in there is literally stretched to the point it can't hold."

Bruce rubbed his chin in thought. "What are we talking about here?"

The nurse rose back up to full height and shrugged. "I'm not the doctor, but in my _opinion_ : I'd say she'll need metal to hold that leg together, and probably bolts in the ankle to force it in place as it heals on its own. The bolts in the ankle will come out…but the metal in the leg will probably have to stay forever." Forever? Terry stiffened at that and a shiver raced through his spine. Great, now the image of Max frozen with death had been momentarily replaced with a picture of Gibson hobbling about like a cripple. No more VRROOM, no more running, laughing – no more the Max he and everyone else loved. Everything she used to be able to do snatched right from under her…

The nurse cocked her head to the side somewhat. It was almost as if the young woman could feel the negativity swirling through the young man's thoughts; felt, and wanted to quell such things. "She _will_ walk again," she assured the teen. "That girl is one tough cookie after all she's been through leading up to this point. She'll need a couple surgeries, months of physical therapy too – but Ms. Gibson will pull through. For now, let the drugs kick in and let her sleep. She needs it." With a final nod of the head, she took off down the hall, meeting up with remaining staff to head to their next patient.

Bruce watched her depart before once again staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. More silence overwhelmed them until finally the old man grunted, "I didn't think you'd show up at all."

Terry growled between gritted teeth. "I could say the same. What the hell are you doing here anyway, Bruce? And with Gordon, too?"

Wayne clenched his wrinkled fingers against the hook of his cane, almost as if the old man were debating whether or not he still had enough guile to knock Terry upside the head with it. At the very least Wayne was heavily resisting the urge to. It wouldn't be the first time – for resisting or doing. For now, however, Wayne wouldn't give power to the teen's smart mouth; after all, he was pretty sure the hospital beds were still pretty filled up – there wouldn't be any room for McGinnis. Oh well, Wayne could always find a training exercise to give Terrence as payback. "Whether you've realized it or not," cut the senior, "I may not approve of Max's involvement in our… _lifestyle_ -."

"Know it all too well," scoffed the teen.

Wayne chose to ignore that also. "-but that doesn't mean I don't _recognize_ her part _in it_ ," finished Bruce, gaining a look of shock from his hotheaded protégé. "I'm not as heartless as I may look. I would've thought you'd realized that by now, McGinnis."

Terry heaved his shoulders in defeat as he too stared ahead at nothing. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just…" the boy struggled to find the right words to say, twiddling his thumbs against his fingers alongside a deepening frown. "I don't know what to _do_ , Bruce." Terry looked up at the old man with a look of strange, angered longing. "It's not enough."

Wayne furrowed his brows at the young man but said nothing at first, allowing Terry's words to sink in and register Bruce's own memories and understanding. It wasn't enough – revenge. Wayne understood that all too well: he knew what it was to be so angry by something that he just wanted to lose all control; he knew what it was to feel weak by not avenging the ones he cared about or the innocent who were wronged…and also what it was to feel weak by struggling to avoid and resist it. Terrence McGinnis had smashed in the craniums of too many Jokerz to count – both before and after Max had been found – but coming here and seeing her like this in such an agonizing stage even after escaping the horrifying grip of death, only made him angrier. "You feel…splinted," answered the former vigilante of justice. Ignoring McGinnis's questioning stare, Wayne analyzed quietly, "You got what you wanted: Max is alive, the Jokerz's carnage of the night has been silenced, and you got the chance make those idiot clowns your own personal punching bag – but even after all of that, it isn't enough. Beating them shitless, letting the cops arrest them, all of it is just a temporary fix for the real problem." Bruce curved his line of sight back to the hero in training and offered him an all knowing glance. "Splinted," Wayne repeated to solidify McGinnis's newfound clarification of what Bruce had meant.

Even still, the fact that the old man so easily grasped an incomparable insight into the teen's mind was as relieving as it was disconcerting. Part of Terry found Wayne's perception to be beneficial as far as the job went – but when things revolved around his personal life, McGinnis couldn't help but feel concerned, especially when Terry himself had no clutch on his emotions about the situation. It was – for the lack of a better word – eerie. "What's," asked Terry nervously as he lowered his knees and swallowed, "the real problem?" Somehow he knew he wouldn't like the answer…he typically _never_ liked Bruce's answers – no matter how truthful they tended to be.

Wayne looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Max knocked out in bed – so still with exhaustion that he almost couldn't tell if she was breathing at first glance. The old man gave the teen boy a strange gaze but eventually stated, "You might say it's the Jokerz. You might try to convince yourself that it's the clowns who are really at fault here and that they need to be taken out completely to stop tragedies like this or worse from happening again. But really, kid, it's just an excuse: a lie you tell yourself so you won't feel like a waste of oxygen." Terry was on his feet now standing toe to toe with Bruce, and all curiosity had melted from his features only to be replaced with agitation. Still, this wouldn't stop the original Dark Knight and Justice League founder. If he could stare Darkseid in the face, there was nothing that could scare him from telling a hormonal teenager the truth. "The _real_ problem, McGinnis, is _you_." Terry stiffened. "When it's all said and done, a tiny voice is still going to be in the back of your mind saying the real issue was that you couldn't step up your game and be the hero that Gotham needed – that she needed. I'm not saying that voice in your head is right – sometimes they are very wrong – but you've got to deal with it, or else this city will go to hell. A brief moment of self-doubt is all it takes to destroy Gotham…and to destroy Batman."

Before the teen can even begin to fully process his boss's analogy, Commissioner Barbara Gordon made her way down the hall – hands stuffed in the long coat pockets in her signature posture – and finally came to stand before the two men…two men who had a very dark secret that Gordon had a larger part in than anyone could have ever imagined. "Bruce," she acknowledges with a tight expression. "Kid." Barbara's brows furrowed a little, noticing that she just might have interrupted something. "Sorry to intrude, but I came to check on our witness."

So that's why she came. McGinnis had had a feeling the Commissioner's presence here was for something far deeper than just dropping off her former master and partner in vigilantism. Terry clenched his fist, already not liking the road Barbara might be taking with this conversation. "Witness…"

Barbara adjusted her glasses and sighed, "That's what I said, kid. The girl could be a key witness to putting the Jokerz who attacked her away for a long time. She's also the perfect symbol to Gotham higher ups on just how big of a problem the clown gangs are-."

And that was where Terry drew the line. "You are NOT using Max as a poster child for your campaign against the Jokerz!" growled McGinnis with a sudden jolt of hostility.

No one said a word for a moment – the two elders' merely stared at the seething teen…until the Commissioner took exception to the neo-Batman's attitude. Barbara's brows descended dangerously after the short pause. Just who the hell did this brat think he was raising his voice at? "And just what the hell would you call what _you're_ doing?" hissed Gordon, taking an aggressive step forward and pulling her hands out of the coat's pockets; almost as if ready for a fight. Gordon had one hell of a long night, and she'd be damned if this kid thought he could talk to her any kind of which way he pleased. "You forget that I've been in your shoes before. You think I don't know what's going through your head? Maybe if you stepped up your inexperienced game, Gibson would never be considered a poster child for this violence in the first place!"

"Barb," warns Bruce in a low voice, holding forward his cane as a barrier of division between her and his apprentice.

Barbara Gordon matched eyes with Bruce briefly before relaxing her posture a bit, though the frown of irritation was still evident upon the older woman's features. Damn kid was lucky. "I'm offering Gibson a chance to put these guys away to stop them from doing the same to someone else. And for _her_. Think about it, Batboy," whispered the Commissioner. "Wouldn't she feel better knowing her assaulters were locked away where they couldn't get to her again? Try looking at it from her perspective. The girl's been through hell and high water – she's probably traumatized, whether she'll admit it or not – the least you can do is drop her a damn life jacket to keep from drowning." With that Barbara's phone buzzed and she looked at the screen for a moment, then offered Wayne a goodbye nod, turning to leave. "Talk to her about it, and have her call me when she makes a decision." She didn't have the time to stand here and rip the kid a new asshole – she still had an entire city to run, and what was most important was that the woman managed to briefly get the gist of her point across. Whether the brat would adhere to it or not was specifically up to him….and Bruce. Gordon threw her hand up in farewell and briskly stalked down the hospital corridor for the nearest exit.

Terry bit his lip in undesirable thought. As much as he hated to admit it, Barbara might have had a point. McGinnis turned on his heels and leaned against the doorway to Max's room, watching his best friend strung up in IV's with a splinted leg, sleeping the world and all her troubles away if even for a small moment. Terry decided right then and there that she wouldn't have to worry about the Jokerz or her family hurting her again – not as Batman, but as her friend; and that was somehow even more valuable. "Hey Bruce."

Wayne rested his hands on top of one another on his cane, still staring straight ahead. "Yeah."

Terry's blue eyes narrowed. "About Max's recovery…"

 _To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

_Very short chapter here, I was intending on going into more detail and adding a couple scenes but LIFE bruh. Also, I had promised my readers i would update tonight and anything extra and there would have been no updates tonight. So I will try to get moving on chapter 9 ASAP._

 _Anyways, tonight is post night so my next post will be a Big Time Rush one-shot that I have been begged to do in forever. It's the beginning of a series (hopeful) and is a Katie/James fic (dont worry, even though Katie is a little older, nothing is going to happen until i get that girl at 18 or older. Until then, its just a crush fic lol)_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Eight**

 _Splinted pt. II_

She couldn't feel anything anymore. Somehow she was in and out of consciousness, in and out of this very world. The drugs had finally kicked in, and Max Gibson found herself drifting into a place of in between reality and sleep; though this plane was less terrifying than the void that had entrapped her in death. It was as if she knew that she was asleep, but wasn't exactly awake either. Her mind battled with comfort and peace, and fear and uneasiness of the past horror she'd faced, and whatever the girl would have to face in the future as a result of that horror. Still. Everything about her had completely come to an absolute stand still as an unwavering heaviness kept the teen consumed into the bright darkness that periodically shifted from reality and dreams she couldn't grasp. It was as if Max was trapped in a dream where she couldn't remember anything that took place. Yin and Yang, lies and truth – a jumble of fog.

"No!" Max stirred at the hostile voice somewhere nearby.

"Keep your voice down," replied a deeper, more familiar one. It sounded aged…influential…irritated in the darkest of ways.

"Pardon me, Mr. Wayne but I will not!" replied the voice incredulously that Max recognized to be feminine as she stirred out of the medical induced haze closer into reality. "What you're suggesting-."

"-is what's best for _her_ ," growled out a younger, masculine voice that made her heart falter. "As it is now, Max needs to remain calm. She doesn't need any more unnecessary stress."

"And you're saying I can't assure that?!"

"Are you kidding?" scoffed a second female voice with enough sass that as Max came to the verge of waking she immediately recognized to be Chelsea…a pissed Chelsea. "You're part of the reason why she's fucked up in the first place! I can see why they don't want to leave her with you."

The older woman's voice crooned out in a manner with so much potential threat Max knew it could only belong to her mother, "Little girl-."

Bruce interrupted the brewing dispute with a tap of his cane on the hospital floor, demanding attention from the bickerers. "Enough. Mrs. Gibson, I understand your concern but think of Max for a moment. Getting her back to your apartment will be a task within itself. And with you and your eldest daughter being so busy, how will you be able to watch after her? Max needs around the clock care."

Sasha snapped back disrespectfully, "Oh, and _you_ can? You can hardly take care of yourself, old man." The sister ignored a rebuking hiss from her mother, Loretta.

Bruce Wayne smiled. "Yes, but the difference between me and you, young lady, is: I can afford to hire a staff at any given time that I want, to do _whatever_ I want. You can barely get a three and a half star hotel when you work. I'm positive Max is in far better capable hands…"

Loretta extends a hand to hold back her fuming daughter as the older woman scowls. "She's _my_ daughter…"

"Yeah," grumbles Chelsea with folded arms. "What a fine job you've been doing…" Sasha swings her hand for the blonde who ducks and counters with a throw of a fist of her own; it connects hard with the eldest Gibson daughter's jaw, causing the young woman to stumble back against the wall.

When Max's eyes slowly pull open, she catches glimpses of hazy blurs pushing back and forth in confusion. But finally after a couple blinks, her vision clears – and Max wakes to find her best friend hooked around Terry's torso and Nelson clinging to Sasha for dear life; both girls trying to lunge at one another. The drowsiness of the drugs burn away as rage starts to simmer within Max's chest. She was laid up crippled, and they were fighting over her like brats at the reading of a will? No. Oh hell no. Her body tensed as she struggled to get a grip of the bed's railing to pull herself up. "STOP!"

All eyes turn for the now awake victim, watching the obviously exhausted young woman give them a glare of deadly disappointment. Loretta pushes through the others and arrives to Max's side, grabbing her hand. "Baby, you're awake."

Max's brows furrowed. "Hell could stir with all the noise in here!" the teen growled.

Terry makes his way around to his best friend's other side, touching the side of her face gently despite her mother's look of flashing disapproval. "You should rest, Max."

"I don't see HOW," retorted the girl sarcastically; but she did relax into the pillows a bit before asking, "Anything from the surgeon?"

Terry shakes his head, noting her discomfort at that information. "They're bringing your discharge papers and a wheelchair."

Max was silent for a moment as she felt the weight of sleep threaten to overwhelm her again now that she was still. "I'm going home?" she asked.

Loretta grinned in dark triumphant, giving McGinnis a look. "Yes, baby. We're going to have you back at the apartment in no time."

Maxine Gibson frowned as if the entire world was suddenly on the verge of collapsing. Somehow the idea of going back with her family was less enthusiastic or comforting than she'd envisioned…especially after all of this. Max knew that what happened to her was her own fault: she should have done the right thing and taken the proper road instead of trying to shortcut it; she should have took Terry up on his offer to pick her up; she should've never let herself get so upset by Loretta's words that she ran off in the first place. Max put herself down in that ditch; but still the young woman didn't want to be placed in the stressful situation that her mother and sister always seemed to press down on the girl. Max had died once – she didn't have a second death wish. "I don't want to go home," she whispered, making the room freeze over.

"What do you mean?" slowly pried Loretta Gibson, her voice starting to give way with anger. "You have to leave the hospital, Max. They can't keep you."

Max bit her lip. "I want to go with Mr. Wayne…" Loretta said nothing else; her standing upright so fast that the chair flipped over and crashed into the base of the monitors behind the bed was expression enough. She and Sasha, obviously insulted, walked towards the door, telling Max to call if she needed anything before turning into the hall – they left an annoyed chill behind with them. Max reached out a hand and grabbed Terry's wrist as the vigilante smiled and shushed her as they waited for the nurses to come.

"You'll be taken care of, Max," assured Bruce as Max's eyelids grew heavy and she eventually drifted once more into the astral plane of reality and dreams; this time with far more peace than she'd originally went into with.

Terry caressed Gibson's head, running his fingers through her pink locks as his blue eyes focused on her resting expression. Yes, she would be taken care of…and he'd make sure she'd never have to go through that hell ever again.

 _To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey all - here's a quick filler chapter. It's been forever since I wrote for this story, so I figured starting with a filler might be the best way to get back into the grove. So here's a short look into a couple of our clowns. Alright, I wont hold you. Please excuse any grammatical or typo errors._

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Nine**

 _Heathens_

Commissioner Gordon stood in the snow engulfed back alley of a nearby police station, looking into the armored transport vehicle in front of her through furrowed brows once the final detainee had been loaded inside and taken their seat. "Congratulations gentlemen-," the Commissioner announces to the only four cuffed teens with painted faces inside, "-on booking a first class trip to Blackgate Penitentiary. I sarcastically hope you find its amenities satisfying; after all, you twips are going away for a long time for what you did…" Barbara noted the shock on some of their faces at the revelation of where they were going; some of shock, others of mild annoyance. Either way, it was plain to see that none of them were rather fond of this idea. That was enough to make her sleep well at night.

"Blackgate?" whispers the buck toothed, nerdy clown known amongst his comrades as Jig. His hands began to shake exceedingly so with fright at her new information, and Barb almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the misled crook.

 _Almost_. "That's right, Mr. Kevin Matthews," answered back the senior woman alongside a sigh of relief.

Jig's older twin, Jag, narrowed his eyes at her reply – the most composed of them all – and scoffed as the lad raised a leg defiantly onto the metallic bench he sat on despite orders from the officers commanding him not to make any sudden moves. "You've gotta be shitting me, Gordon. We're minors, remember?" sassed the twisted counterpart. "Stop with the scare tactics. You and I both know the most you can do is admit us to juvie."

This one had a certain attitude that Barbara wasn't particularly fond of; so it was fairly obvious just how much she enjoyed knocking the kid down a few pegs by proving him wrong. "Under normal circumstances, you'd be correct Devin," agreed Gordon as a soft smirk tugged at the corner of the woman's lips – a mild glint of amusement flashed in her wrinkled eyes. "Thankfully for the people of Gotham – and unfortunately for you – you're being tried as adults and get to experience the grandeur of walking into Blackgate. You should feel honored. Any Jokerz that makes it in Blackgate has quite the rep…if they live long enough to keep it up."

This wasn't possible. "Tried as adults for what?" Teaser smacks his lips before leaning back arrogantly against the van's interior and closed his black lined eyes. "We ain't do nothin', Commish."

Barb raises a brow. "Oh? That's not what I heard," Barbara countered, pulling her hands out of her pockets. "You guys and your little drugged up girlfriend have been _very_ busy tonight." Gordon begins counting on each finger: "Driving while intoxicated, drug possession, endangerment, robbery, battery, civil unrest, and my personal favorite-," adds the retired Batgirl with an all knowing smirk, "-murder."

With the inability to stomach this much further, Bullhorn leapt to his feet with widened eyes, and the gathered officers unholstered their guns and took aim as Jag immediately slipped out of his uncaring façade and sincerely tried to calm the growingly frantic giant. "We didn't kill no one!" he shouted.

"Bullhorn!" cautioned Jag, grabbing the friend's wrist and pulling down gently. "Mikey!" Jag commanded. Bullhorn froze, suddenly snatched back to his senses as he looked down at Jag with a terrified expression. Jag sighed and once again gently pulled down – this time the giant following suit and taking a silent seat. Despite the obvious strength difference, a blind man could see that Jag served as a symbol of will for the big guy. Gordon made a note of that, deciding for the sake of the soft Bullhorn that she'd give explicit orders not to separate the two. Big and cuddly didn't survive where they were going – and quite frankly, she needed them to survive…at least for a little while, if possible. Barb knew this decision was pushing the envelope to the burning point, but for now it was her best option.

Still, with the situation getting once more under control Barbara shrugged her shoulders. "Technically speaking: you did. She died. The Batman just so happened to revive her. Buuuut, if you just want to shave a couple years off your sentences-."

"SENTENCES?!" shrieked Bullhorn with sweat pouring from his brow in panic; though his outburst was far less than from before this time.

"-I guess we could call it _attempted_ murder. Either way," states the Commissioner as she turns her back to the group and prepares to head back inside the building, "you won't be out strolling my streets for a long, long time." Well, at least the majority of them. She knew all too well after a psychological evaluation was completed on these clowns, at least two of them would get lesser sentences in juvie. Barbara huffed as the sound of the transport vehicle's doors slamming shut rang in the background. The wind sliced at the older woman as she looked just once over her shoulder, watching the van pull out of the alley and around the corner until it had disappeared out of sight. Somehow, she couldn't shake a disturbing feeling in her gut that this was far from over. Maybe it was paranoia – or maybe it was the result of her days as Batgirl protecting the streets of Gotham and the world alongside the original Dark Knight springing forth in warning. Whatever it was, when it came to worrying, Barbara was never wrong…

* * *

In the late hours of the night, the van lumbered cautiously through the snow covered roads of Gotham city as its rear inhabitants sat in silence – counting each flash of light that whizzed by, or listening to the other cars that passed, or imagining they weren't even here right now in the first place. Teaser clenched his fists in irritation, tugging needlessly against the restraints constricted around the leader's wrists with quick jerks of frustration. They just _had_ to stop at the food spot. If the rest of those idiots had just listened to him in the first place they would've been on the other side of Gotham by the time the Bat showed up. They never would've been caught. The bitch in the ditch might have died before the group could double back around to play with her – but that surely was a better option than being sent to mother fucking Blackgate. That penitentiary was no damn joke. It wasn't just a prison – it was a vacation hell for Gotham's top criminals. It was no Arkham Asylym from back in the day, but its name was enough to make lower level criminals such as himself nearly wet themselves with fear.

Commissioner had been right: there were Jokerz in Blackgate – but those weren't just your average clowns. They were heads. Monsters. Worshippers of the original Joker's system of tyranny and sadistically cruel humor. Teaser and his goons weren't even on the same level as those loons' piss. The leader was a fighter – and a little fucked up in the head himself – and was sure that for a short time he might be able to hold his own in the pen…but the keyword there was _short time_. After all, the Jokerz heads weren't the only dangerous beasts inside of Blackgate. There were even some inside far worse than they were. Shit. Teaser clenched his fists and let out a growl before slamming a foot against the metallic floor angrily, earning a raise of the brow from Jag as the other two sat in solemn silence. Just what the hell was Gordon doing this for? Even with their crimes, they still should've been sent to juvie or a regular state jail at the most to await trial. Not that hell hole. So why?

The answer became vaguely clear to one of the crew members: Devin Matthews, aka Jag. While the twin teen clown wasn't knocking the seriousness of this problem that he and his gaggle were currently in, the boy _had_ been able to configure a potential reasoning behind a measure as drastic as being imprisoned at Blackgate.

Information. The way he figured it: the Commissioner thought there was something the Jokerz gang knew that could prove beneficial to her and Gotham law enforcement somehow. And he was pretty sure she was right. But there had been one problem in Gordon's pursuit of this info; one perhaps she had not expected or prepared for. A majority of the teen clown collectives of Gotham were soft, lily-livered, scaredy cats – Jokerz in name only. They would rat one another out in a heartbeat to save their own skin.

 _This_ group, however, was different. Much different. Unlike their wanna-be-funny brothers and sisters, some of the members in this group were actually disturbed in the head. Jag himself, TeeHee, and Teaser _enjoyed_ stirring up trouble. Even more than that, all of them knew how to keep their mouth shut no matter the consequences – whether pertaining to personal group business, or the Jokerz institution as a whole. Jag snorted in realization: Gordon couldn't get them to spill any details, so instead she was hoping to break them behind the walls of Blackgate. Part of him wanted to say her attempts were in vain; that they'd all die before betraying the Jokerz that nursed and made them…but the twin wasn't stupid enough to completely ignore the situation he and the others were in. This was _Blackgate_. Even the criminally insane could break in this place…How else was Mad Stan able to get crazier and crazier every time he escaped? For the first time Jag questioned his mental fortitude. He-.

There was a sound of screeching tires as the van lurched from a fierce crash, sending the police vehicle spinning wildly for a moment before righting itself and suddenly speeding off. Voices hollered out from the front of the transport unit, yelling into their radios that they were under attack as gunfire rang out all around them, bouncing off the bulletproof interior. Bullhorn pulled his large body into a ball as Jag's nerdy brother Jig cried out, demanding to know what was going on. Teaser braced himself on the floor and smirked lightly. Car horns blared and faded as the transport whizzed and dodged from lane to lane until, with a rough throw and explosion of sound and black smoke, the van suddenly threw itself forward and up – causing it's captive inhabitants to go flying through the air with a cry before everything crashed all around them, and the world briefly grew black.

Once the ringing in Teaser's ears died down, he was able to hear the sound floored tires and metal concaving, bending, forcing against itself, coming from the back of the truck. Dulled voices shot outside followed by more gunfire and finally the metal tore apart and the bright street lights flooded the inside of the van – allowing Teaser to see that not only had the body of the transport suffered heavy damage physically, but also that it was upside down. As if by instinct, the passengers, with groans of discomfort and shock, managed to climb their way outside of the back doors covered in scrapes and bruises, shredded fabric and blood, met with the sight of a wrangled, painted Jeep with a black wire coming out of some contraption on its hood. The wire danced through the snowy road and ended at the mouth of a large grappling hook of some kind that was penetrated fully through what remained of the sealed transport doors sprawled about in the snow.

"ALEX!" cried out a feminine voice. Teaser straightened up and smiled as Tee Hee (fully sober) jumped out of the jeep and came dashing through the snow before leaping into his arms, her legs tying themselves around his waist. The icy wind danced through her curly, shoulder blade-length blonde hair intimately as if celebrating their reunion. She kissed his neck, leaving a plum purple lipstick stain there for all to see.

"Jess…" Teaser sighed in relief as she released her legs from him, and the teen male pulled her close. He ran a hand along the girl's jawline and for the first time tonight, his eyes actually mirrored affection for something other than someone else's suffering. "You okay, best fiend?"

TeeHee smirked at her nickname and hugged him again. "Fine. The cops were going to ruin all the fun and lock me up when these guys," she said motioning for the small group of grinning clowns dressed in some kind of tattered tape against the jeep, "sprung me free. On the night of Initiations, Jokerz are closer to one another than ever." TeeHee snuggled her face against his chest with a wide grin. "They couldn't let us get locked up."

One of the new clowns stepped forward, covered in a body suit that resembled the black wrappings of a mummy which – while similar to those of his crew – differentiated him from the rest. "Me and the boys have been hitting cops with Jokerz all night." He stuck out his tongue in welcoming salute, and Teaser returned the greeting gratefully. "Anyways," continued to leader of the savior faction, "I've got another transport to take out before dawn. But I think you'd be pleased to find _that_." He points ahead beyond the upside down transport where the gang's truck was making its way up the highway through oncoming traffic. As it came to sliding halt, Teaser raised his hands in exaltation and dashed off for the truck with a giggle of maddened glee.

Jig, Jag, TeeHee and Bullhorn made their way after their leader with the mummified Jokerz following behind them. As the group passed the front of the police van, Jag looked down and saw what remained of the officers transporting them to Blackgate: the male was outside of the truck in the snow with multiple holes dripping with blood leaking across his body into the freezing white. The woman was headfirst hanging partially outside of the smashed windshield on her back, eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape while shards of various sized glass pieces decorated her body as the streams of red stretched and danced across her lifeless frame. Jag couldn't help but think to himself how beautiful she looked; more so, how beautiful unexpected, and playful death, looked on a woman's delicate body.

Once the liberated group climbed inside of their ride, their rescuer leaned into the driver's window and looked Teaser directly in the eye. "Uncle Bamm Bamm heard about how you and your guys kept your traps shut – even when Gordon stepped in. He appreciated that kind of loyalty beyond words and figured the best way to show it was to set you free; whiiiiiile killing a few cops in the process."

Uncle Bamm Bamm was one of the Jokerz heads that wasn't currently locked up. He oversaw a number of smaller factions along Gotham's Harbor and was a total nutcase. Most teens thought he was a ghost because very few people saw him – and the ones who did were either loyal enough not to brag…or were no longer existent. "Thanks," Teaser said simply with a nod of the head.

The mummy nodded back before tapping the hood of the truck and going back towards his own goons as Teaser set the car in gear, spun around, and took off down the highway like a bat of out of hell. The car erupted in cheers of joy and praise at the face of their victory and rescue before Teaser raised a hand to shush them. "Alright, here's the deal," he began to explain with a serious tone that got them immediately attentive. "We can't go back home. Commissioner Gordon knows our names. And with those cops dead she'll be out for blood. If not ours, then the names of whoever _are_ responsible. We've got to go back to the Fort – lay low for a while."

"What about that bitch in the ditch?" growled TeeHee from the passenger seat. "I doubt she's just going to let us go. As long as she wants us as badly as Gordon does, we're screwed." Silence filled the truck for a while as they thought about that. She was right. Chances were that their victim wouldn't just up forget about what they put her through. With the cops knowing their true identities, the teens were no longer part-time clowns…And as wacko as they were, none of them particularly liked the idea of really being wanted by the law.

"Then maybe," offered Jag from the backseat with a hiss, "we just need to change to her mind…"

 _To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey all! It's been forever since I updated this story. Man! Anyways, here's just a short chapter to get back into the groove of things! Enjoy! And Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate! Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors!_

* * *

 _ **The Ditch**_

 **Chapter Ten**

 _Splinted pt. III_

By the time the car pulled up to the steps of Wayne Manor, everyone was rightfully exhausted – _beyond_ the word. Max had finally received her discharge papers and a prescription for Lortab to help with the pain. So far the splint held. Thanks to the drugs they'd given her earlier, she didn't feel much of anything while getting out of bed, into the wheelchair, and into the car. By now, however, the girl's senses were starting to sober up to the point that just the slightest bump in the road caused Gibson to wince in growing discomfort. But then again: when you snapped your leg in half, fractured and dislocated the ankle on same said leg, had extensive nerve , tendon and muscle damage, was stabbed, practically bled out, suffered from the beginning stages of hypothermia, and basically died…she guessed she could handle a little pain here or there.

The ride within itself had been pretty quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Terry drove, of course, while Bruce and Max sat in the darkened back. Most people probably would've felt uneasy being in the same room as Bruce Wayne – so they'd probably shit their pants being in such a closed, confined space directly _next_ to the old man. But not Max. Their bout of distrust between one another long ago passed; and though the two obviously still had issues with the ways the other carried out "business", they were pretty shway. Still, that didn't stop the explosion of shock in Gibson's soul when Wayne reached out a wrinkled hand and pat her own in awkward yet meaningful comfort.

Every few minutes Terry would look back at his best friend and boss through the rearview mirror, making sure everything was okay. And each time that he did, Max always looked right back and smiled softly…and he would either smile back or frown – obviously struggling between gratitude for her life being preserved, and rage that it had even been threatened in the first place.

The luxury vehicle pulled up to the front of Wayne Manor, and Max gathered up Terry's jacket that he'd loaned her (her own was probably still with that psycho druggie) and began to prepare herself to exit when Terry cursed. "What? What is it?" Gibson asked.

"I forgot about them…" murmured McGinnis to himself more than anyone else.

"Forgot about what?" responded the pink haired dame with a raise of the brow.

McGinnis couldn't even answer – to ashamed at his thoughtlessness; but Bruce could. And he _did_. "…The steps…" Wayne replied all knowingly and statuesque.

Terry's bristle of anger was quick as the young man turned around and glared at the former Batman. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Bruce almost felt shock at the teen's hidden accusation. _Almost_. "It was your idea to bring her here-," the old man began to reply. But as per usual, Terry wouldn't let him get a word in without sharing his own two cents.

"And you agreed!"

"You're the Batman-."

"That's not your best argument, Bruce!"

"I assumed that you had everything figured out." Bruce sighed, completely unbothered by the teen's hostility. "Of course, this wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong about that."

"You self-righteous-."

"GUYS!" interjected Max with a raise of her hands in surrender. Both men turn to look at her less than relaxed expression. "If I wanted to be around fighting, I could've just went with my mom." Terry's mouth slammed shut in guilt. "Now," continued Gibson with a turn for the front door as she pushed back a resistant strand of pink hair, "about the steps: I can make it." Although her words were confident, the look on her face wasn't quite too sure. The front of the manor didn't have a large stairway – in fact, there were only a few steps – but she'd have to do a lot more walking than she would like to right now on an awakening center of pain.

Terry frowned. "Maybe we can try the garage…"

"And make her walk all the way from one end of the house to another?" Bruce scoffed. "It's called Wayne _Manor_ , McGinnis," added the aged billionaire through furrowed brows. "Not Wayne _Flat_."

Terry growled low. Smart ass. "I can make the front steps," assured Max, trying to stop any further dispute between the two vigilante men in her life. "No problem."

"Those aren't the only steps I'm worried about, Max," stated Terry, rubbing his temple in frustration. Max didn't even have time to ask when the teen clarified, "Wayne Manor is a big estate and…well…Problem is, there's not a proper place for you to sleep on the main floor. You'd have to go up his staircase to the upper level – and it's a lot."

Well that was discouraging. Max chewed her lips. "Surely in a house this big Bruce has an elevator?" Gibson stared at Wayne. "Don't you?"

"I do," replied the old man gruffly. "But I don't think you'll be able to make it."

Max's hands begin to shake nervously. So what? They came all this way for nothing? "Let's just get in the house first. We'll decide on the rest then. Terry…" She didn't have to say anything else, for in an instant he was out the door and on the other side of the car with hers open. Wayne grunted again and exited on his own, hobbling around the car and beyond the two up the steps to get the door open. Gently, carefully, Max maneuvered a bit to get her right leg out the vehicle and stand. McGinnis had her in his arms, urging her on and telling her to use his body as a crutch to carry her weight. Max obeyed, leaning into McGinnis as the young man's hands gently lifted her remaining body out of the vehicle and closed the door. He slammed the door close and practically flew to Max's left, taking her arm and pulling it around his massive shoulders, while the lad's opposite hand gripped Gibson's waist; her right hand clutched it for dear life.

By now, Max's shaking had become all the more noticeable as the female let out a trembling breath that danced foggily in the freezing air. Though, it wasn't the cold causing Gibson to shake. A set of lights that Wayne hardly ever used illuminated along each side of the steps and for that both teens were grateful. "Take your time, Max," urged McGinnis into her ear. "Move when you're ready."

"I'm ready," she so easily lied, starting with her right foot and pushing up the first step. That part was easy with Terry already up the first step and practically guiding her up, but the rest would be where things would get difficult. In order to go up each step, she would have to put some weight on her injured leg…Max lifted her right foot again, and grit her teeth to silence the whimper of pain as her body pushed down on her injured side.

She was moving much too fast and not communicating in time for him to help. Damnit. Terry had her instantly and pulled up, quickly doing his part to alleviate the pressure on the girl's injury. "You have to tell me when you're ready, Max!" he snapped, squeezing her waist a little too tight.

"Don't yell at me, Ter!" she hollered back, insulted a bit by the tone of his voice. Deep down the melanin adorned beauty knew her best friend wasn't upset with her: he was just upset that she didn't inform him of her move so that he could carry most of her weight. But Max's pain preventers were all but worn off now; she was tired, hurting, cold, and hungry – and his rip into her only made matters worse. Max stepped up again, but this time McGinnis interpreted her move and eased the weight on her left side, helping Gibson to make it up a few more steps. They were at the final step when a sound to the right suddenly flew out from the bushes like a ferocious attack, causing Max to look with a loud gasp as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Her right foot missed the top step, causing her body to suddenly fall back…and onto the girl's left faster than Terry could keep up with. The pain was searing and hot and so intense her heart galloped. Everything buckled, and with a cry of pain Maxine Gibson was about to tumble backwards. Bruce leaned forward from the doorway with a holler. "TERRY!" Recollecting himself, McGinnis swiftly ducked behind Max and rearranged his arms so that they tucked beneath the teen's knee and back. McGinnis grounded himself as firm as he could and regained his balance until he was able to lift the genius off of her feet into a princess carry and continue the rest of the journey into the manor.

"Tell me where I'm going, Bruce," demanded McGinnis as Max tightened her grip around the boy's neck and buried her face into his shoulder…crying. Terry was already heading deep into the main foyer and for the elevator towards the back.

"Not the elevator!"

"I can get her to a room quicker if I-."

"The longer you carry her the more strain gravity is putting on her ankle and leg. They just put her bone together, you're gonna redislocate the ankle _worse_ if it isn't already. Or pull the bones in her leg apart. Bring her to the living room."

Bruce didn't have to say another word. Terry spun on his heels and walked her to the other side of the foyer into a large and lit area. "Sit her on the couch." His orders were obeyed, and as soon as Max touched the fabric she nearly curled up into a ball. "No, Max. You have to straighten up."

"It hurts…" she whimpered softly with a gasp.

"I know, honey. But not for long…" Bruce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out her prescription. "Terry grab some water."

"Can she take that on an empty stomach?!"

"Technically she shouldn't. Her body won't be able to metabolize the acetaminophen in it, and it can cause liver damage even at lower doses. But the hydrocodone in it will take effect much quicker on an empty stomach. One time won't kill her – and I'd rather deal with potential liver damage than see her in so much pain again. Now, get the damn water!"

Terry found himself mildly appalled at the old man's fierce defensiveness for Max's sake – but then again, McGinnis understood it. After being around Max for so long, you couldn't help but love her in some manner or another – whether you were aware of or wanted it or not. The teen flew through the corridors to the kitchen, practically tearing the cabinets apart to look for a cup before finally locating one and filling it with water. By the time McGinnis made it back to the living area, Bruce had somehow managed to get Max sitting up with her back against an arm of the couch. Her wrist was resting against her forehead as the girl took deep and labored breaths – but the tears had stopped, and judging by Wayne's expression: he was just as relieved by that as Terry was. "I have the water," he said – though suddenly tripping over something that scurried in front of his feet. "SHIT, ACE!" hollered the teen with a scowl as the black canine stalked the shadows, curiously watching the strange play of movement before him. The dog was used to seeing Max at Wayne Manor – but not like this. The Great Dane could feel the tension in the air, and didn't like it one single bit.

"I'm fine," whispered Gibson unconvincingly between breaths.

"You'll be better once you take your medicine." Terry stood over her, taking the bottle of pills from Wayne and shaking the required dosage into his hand. The young Batman handed them to his best friend, but Max recoiled away from them.

"No."

"Maaaax," began McGinnis – his voice drawn out with frustration.

"Terry," Max explained, looking up at her ace boon with fearful eyes. "I don't want to go back to sleep. I've spent enough time in the dark. Please…"

He hadn't considered that. Between being stranded at night in the ditch, to dying, being drugged and in and out of sleep in the hospital, he could only imagine how weary of being mentally nonexistent Max must have been. But McGinnis would rather her sleep than stay awake in agony; and whether Max knew it or not, that option was probably the best for her either way. Terry's brows narrowed in compassion – but still he gently gripped her palm and placed the medicine into it. "Max, you don't have to be afraid. Okay? I'm here," the teen assures her. "No matter how dark it may get, I'm always going to be right here. I'll save you. It's my job."

Max started to smile. "As Batman?"

But Terry's expression suddenly grew more serious that Max's smile faded. The blue-eyed teen shook his head before tenderly placing a hand against her cheek for a split moment. "No. As your friend."

Max could feel the burning in her eyes threatening to tear them apart, but she never stopped looking at him. Quickly, in an attempt to divert any more tears from falling, she popped the pills into her mouth and took the water from his hands and swallowed the medicine down. "Happy?"

"No," answered Terry, much to Max's surprise as she stared and tried to gauge what he meant. McGinnis kneeled down beside her, lacing his fingers through her own and pulling her hand to his lips. His icy eyes peered through Gibson's very soul. "Never. I'll never be happy. Not until you're better…and not until the assholes who did this to you pay…"

Bruce grunted in the background, and Terry growled. "Don't say it," he snapped.

"Say what?" asked the old man nonchalantly.

"That it's not the Batman way…"

"I don't have to say it," countered Wayne as he hobbled towards the fireplace and swiped an automatic lighter from the mantel – then reaching down and igniting the wood inside. "You already _know_ it's not."

McGinnis opened his mouth to dispute when Max grabbed his chin between her fingertips and sighed like a scolding parent. "Terry…Don't talk like that."

Terrence could see that she was already starting to drift out due to the medicine. For that he was grateful. At least he wouldn't have to hear her argue with him about what was right or wrong…about the anger he felt every time he pictured his best friend dead in that ditch – and the overwhelming desire to do something about it. So, he did the one thing he was getting better at doing since donning the cowl: he lied. "Anything for you, Max."

Gibson slid down on the massive couch and laid on her side as Terry rested his back against the edge of the furniture, allowing the female to take her arm and wrap it about his neck and shoulder in a gesture that plainly stated she wanted him close. "Just…stand by me…"

"There's no place I'd rather be, Max. No place. Now, sleep. You're safe now," he urged. As if on cue, Maxine Gibson let out an exhausted exhale and drifted away, leaving the room silent aside from the now crackling wood being devoured by the flames within the fireplace.

Ace trotted forward and sniffed the couch where Max was sleeping before walking toward his master and sitting diligently at Bruce's side. The old man reached down and pat the massive canine's head, saying nothing for quite some time. But when he did speak, the coldness was laced through his voice in such a way that Terry didn't know whether to shiver in fear, or square up viciously for a fight. "You're treading on dangerous ground, McGinnis."

"I'm walking just fine, Wayne." Terry clenched his fist.

Bruce turned and faced the young man – his expression said it all. "No, you're not. I know you're upset about what happened to her. But if you don't watch yourself you're going to end up down a road that will tear you up worse than her death ever could. It's not worth it."

McGinnis glared, not even wanting to hear where Wayne was going with this conversation. " _She's_ worth it," snapped back the teen. "She's worth every single head of those dregs."

Bruce snorted. So McGinnis wanted to use Max as a basis for his argument, huh? Two could play that game. "Are you honestly stupid enough to believe Max would let you consider, much less _think_ that?" Terry didn't answer – he didn't have to. Wayne shook his head. "Control your emotions, kid. They'll put you in deeper trouble than even I will be able to get you out of. Trust me. I'm speaking from experience."

Terry argued simply, "My emotions are just fine."

"You're wrong. You love Max – probably way more than you even realize or are willing to admit, and that's the main source of your problem – and I know you think that you're protecting her; _avenging_ her. But in the end your love for Max is going to cause more damage than you'll know how to handle. You're not saving her by entertaining those twisted thoughts in your head, McGinnis. In fact, you just might be killing her. Now I won't say it again. Control your emotions – or you'll lose control over everything."

It was a substantial threat ringing with truths – and ordinarily Terry would have backed down and considered the previous Dark Knight's words…but not now. McGinnis caressed Max's arm strung across his shoulder and neck and warned the old man in a low and threatening voice: "Gotham is my city. Max is my friend. And if you think I'll let those clowns do the same thing to someone else that they did to her, you're crazy."

"Don't you do that!" snarled Wayne so loudly that it made even Ace flinch. Bruce jabbed his cane in the teen's direction and bared his teeth. "Don't you dare try to use that girl as the crutch for your misguided notions! This isn't about protecting the city. This is about you wanting revenge for what happened to Max. This is you tossing the blame off of yourself and pinning it onto PART of the problem just so you can sleep easier at night. It's a cowardly move."

"I guess I'm doing things the good ole Bruce Wayne way, then!" cut Terry sharp as a knife as he fought the urge to stand – referring to far more than he probably would have liked to in terms of what he did know about Bruce's past. Instantly, he regretted it.

A verbal slap in the face. As if doused with water, Bruce Wayne's anger simmered down and the senior citizen could only shake his head – marveling at it all. "You're right, McGinnis. You're doing things the old Bruce Wayne way. Keep it up and you'll end up just like me." Bruce smirked eerily, and the Manor seemed to grow smaller in a terrifying, prophetic manner around them all. "Just. Like. Me…"

Terry's chest pumped up and down as a shiver ran through his spine. But he wouldn't show any weakness. "You're not the Batman anymore, Bruce. I am." The words were simple, but the meaning was profound.

Bruce turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance and eat away the wood like an agonizing ritual of death and calamity. "Yep," Wayne whispered. "Just like me…"

 _To be continued…_


End file.
